


Bloody Apples

by Lidia1357



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends, Established Relationship, M/M, Memory Loss, Memory gap, Probably NSFW in later chapters, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-02-29 19:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18784561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidia1357/pseuds/Lidia1357
Summary: Anders wakes in Fenris's mansion. With no memory of entering the mansion, he goes to the Hanged Man for answers. He learns that he and Hawke are no longer a couple, his clinic isn't the same, he's lost two years of memory, and, oh yeah, he and Fenris are a couple. He and Fenris struggle to retain their relationship while Anders remembers only hate and anger between them. Can they regain all that they lost? And what will they do when Danarius returns? Rating may change. Rated Mature but may change to Explicit, we'll see what everyone wants.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a developing fic. I love interacting with readers while I write. So if there's anything you'd specifically like to see in this piece as it goes, feel free to let me know. We'll see what I can do ;)

Anders’s slumber left him gradually, and he found himself to by lying in a rather comfortable bed, under a thick comforter that left him feeling warm and safe. He smiled to himself.

_ Hawke’s bed _ .

He reached his hand out to feel for his sleeping companion to come up empty. Anders frowned. He’d never slept longer than Hawke a day in his life. He finally cracked one eye open. The room he was in was still dark. He could barely make out the bedpost on the other side of the bed as he peered through his hair. He slowly sat up. His joints popped and cracked from the motion and his left leg protested movement. Clear signs of a recent fight. Anders rubbed his eyes as he tried to recall just when this fight had happened. The last he could remember was a minor slaver group they had encountered while they trekked to Sundermount to beg some ancient knife from the Keeper that Merril was going to do Maker knew what with. That was at least a week ago by Anders’s recollection.

He allowed some magical energy to slow down his leg and through his arms. The soothing warmth relaxed the irritation in his muscles and he finally looked around the room. He paused any motion.

_ This is  _ not _ Hawke’s room! _

Anders sprung up and spun around the dark room he was in. Whoever’s room this was, it was twice as large as Hawke’s and ten times as dark. The smell of damp wood and ask met his nose as he searched the place for his staff. He held a light in his palm as he surveyed the area. The carpet beneath his feet was worn. The fireplace on the opposite wall of the bed was grand and well used. There were signs of a recent fire within. Likely from the night prior. A polished nightstand sat at each side of the bed and a large, ornate chest sat at the foot. Anders knelt down and observed the chest. It was definitely Tevene. The red cushions atop of it indicated that it also served as a bench. Sitting beside the large door sat an empty armor stand. A grand armoire stood in the corner on the opposite side. There appeared to be few personal belongings within the area. It almost felt like a luxurious inn that had seen better days. 

Spotting no staff, Anders decided to exit the room. He found himself at the top of a wide staircase that led to down to an expansive room that led to multiple hallways as well as the entrance. Anders was clearly in some kind of mansion; one that looked strangely familiar, yet Anders held no memory of entering it the night before. Swallowing his panic, he descended the stairs and glanced at the front door. To its left, was a weapon stand that held a handsome, golden staff. Intricate runes glowed around the handle of the jagged blade attached. The rest of the staff was crusted with tiny jewels and intricate designs of imitated tree bark. Anders looked around for his own, but saw there wasn’t anything else in the area. 

“Does anyone live here? Did I manage to get drunk and pass out in some abandoned mansion without Justice noticing?” Anders grumbled and snapped up the staff. Unfamiliar as it was, it felt perfectly natural in his hand. The weight of it felt familiar to his fingers and back when he strapped it into place. Anders would just have to ask Varric to help him find the owner to return it. That is, after he found out what exactly was going on here.

Anders stepped out of the door and found himself in a nook in Hightown. Birds were beginning to chirp as dawn was beginning to break. Anders blinked against the increased light and looked around. He knew this area. On the opposite side of the platform was Bartrand’s mansion, and that DuPuis monster lived just to Anders’s left. That meant the mansion he had just stepped out of was-

“Maker no!” Anders spun around as if he would somehow be proven wrong by spotting the building from the outside. It was undeniable. The place looked every bit as haunted as Varric worked hard to lead everyone in Hightown to believe it was. 

“Fenris’s mansion!” He breathed.

 

“Well hello, tall blonde and handsome. Varric and I were just getting out the cards. Care to join?” Isabella cooed as Anders entered the Hanged Man. The smell of stale, cheap alcohol, blood, and vomit were comfortingly familiar as he made his way to Varric’s favored table in the back. Anders signed and pulled up a chair, plopping down heavily. Varric peeked over his card hand at the intrusion and arched a red eyebrow.

“Something wrong, Blondie?” He asked with that gravelly voice of his.

“Yes. I just… Maker, I just walked from Hightown. I was in Fenris’s mansion!” Anders looked around, checking to see if the Elf was nearby. “He wasn’t in it though.”

Isabella threw her head back in laughter. “I know, Anders. I know. They’ll be back today. It was just an overnight trip, remember? Hawke needed to assess the danger hazards of the Pit and report to Hubert. Maker knows he wasn’t going to do that without Fenris’s muscle.”

Varric chucked and dealt Anders a hand. “Should be back any minute now, actually.”

Anders picked at the cards without looking at them. Why would his friends explain Fenris’s absence? That was the least important part of all of this. “And the part about me waking up in his mansion?”

“Did you think you would wake up somewhere else? Ooo! Maybe in my bed? Or Varric’s! Bianca could use some extra company!” Isabella shot Varric the most seductive eyes she could possibly have ever used on anyone. Varric placed a protective hand on Bianca and threw her a glare.

“No one is holding her but me! She’s a picky lady.” He turned to Anders with some concern shining in his brown eyes. “But seriously, Blondie. What’s going on?”

Ander’s dropped the cards down, face side up. “I don’t know! Last I remember-”

“We’re baaaaack!” Hawke’s rumbling voice rang out as his heavy footsteps made his way to their table. Anders turned as a heavy sigh of relief fell from his chest. Tailing the monster of a man was the more silent elf at his heels. Anders opted to ignore that part and immediately rose from his seat, meeting the man half-way.

“The young lovers reunite and Anders can’t even wait til they’ve gotten through the door.” Isabella said. Anders paid her no mind. He needed Hawke’s comforting embrace. He flung his arms around the large man’s neck and pulled himself close.

“Oh! I’m happy to see you too, Anders,” Hawke chuckled and dropped his pack to return the embrace. Anders pulled back only long enough to press his lips to Hawke’s. This whole morning had began in the most wrong way possible. He was desperate for something right.

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

Hawke pulled back immediately, shoving Anders away. A look of shock and panic as he looked over Anders’s shoulder was all he could see. “Anders! What are you doing?”

“What do you mean? You’ve never had a problem with open displays of affection before.” Anders tried to reach out to Hawke again, who stepped back, nearly bumping into Fenris who was behind him, out of Anders’s sight. 

“No, I have no problem with  _ that _ part. Honestly Anders. What’s gotten into you?”

“What’s gotten into me?” Anders looked around him at his shocked friends. Isabella seemed almost hurt and Varric was clearly itching for a quill and parchment. Hawke’s shock and anger dissolved into confusion, and Fenris seemed to be hiding behind him, “What’s going  _ on _ here? First I wake up in Fenris’s mansion, sorry Fenris, please don’t tear my heart out. I have some staff I’ve never seen before, and you’re acting like you barely know me! We’ve been together for months now!”

“Andraste’s tits! Isabella-” Varric whispered.

“I know. I think I know what’s going on here,” The Pirate Queen stood up and placed a gentle hand on Anders’s shoulder. He resisted the urge to shrug it off. Something very wrong was going on here and he needed to know what. “Do you remember what happened yesterday, Anders? On the Wounded Coast?”

Anders raised an eyebrow at her. “We haven’t been to the Wounded Coast since we got the Viscount’s son.”

Isabella shot a glance in Hawke’s direction and swallowed. “That… was almost two years ago, Sweet Thing.”

Anders laughed and looked at Hawke, then Varric, and back to Isabella. “Right. Is that what’s going on here? Is this some elaborate joke? Okay,” he threw his hands up, “You got me. But how you managed to get me to Fenris’s mansion without him knowing is beyond me. Great job, by the way! Excellent sport. Now can we all drop the-”

“Anders!” Hawke’s voice boomed, sending a shiver of ice down Anders’s spine. He stopped dead in his tracks and the sound of a thud hit the floor. Fenris was fleeing from behind Hawke, leaving his pack behind. He slammed the door of the Hanged Man so hard that the whole tavern was dead silent for at least ten seconds. The small group of friends all looked at the door. Anders looked on with confusion and annoyance. Everyone else looked with sadness in their eyes. Hawke sighed.

Anders swallowed and cleared his throat. “Okay. Clearly there’s something wrong here.”

“Yes.” Hawke said. He finally looked back at them. “Didn’t I hear something about, ‘Keep him safe or I’ll flay you alive’? What happened, you two. We were gone for a day!”

“We thought he was fine Hawke!” Isabella’s hand left Anders’s shoulder and she reached for Hawke’s instead. “Honestly, he wasn’t even injured! We thought he was fine. He  _ said _ he was fine Hawke!”

Anders numbly sat back down. Hawke scooped up Fenris’s and his pack and took the seat across from Anders. Varric sat stiffly and locked eyes with Isabella when she sat down. She sat hunched over beside Anders and shook her head. “Varric heard something about a group of slavers that could have had a connection with Danarius. He brought this information by Anders and Aveline and we all agreed to look into it. There weren’t any slavers, but there was trouble.”

 

_ “Where was this slaver camp supposed to be again, Varric?” Aveline asked as they trekked over the rocks and shrubs. The salty, sea air blew by them in a chilly breeze. If she closed her eyes, Isabella could almost pretend she was out at sea again. The feeling was bittersweet. Varric described where the slavers were supposed to be holed up and they made their way down to a nearby cave. Anders’s face was set like steel. He hadn’t said a word since he insisted that they make the trip immediately. Isabella found his devotion both sweet and comical. If she were being honest with herself, though, she would have done the same thing if Templars were planning to drag Hawke away.  _

_ “There. It’s a shallow cave so we have to be ready,” Varric said in a hushed whisper. “Aveline and Isabella will take the front. I’ll find a good place to fire and scan for traps. Anders, you stay a little farther back. Let’s get this over with. Happy hour at the Hanged Man is not something I want to miss tonight.” _

_ “Is that horrible poet back?” Isabella snickered. Varric nodded. _

_ They crept closer to the mouth of the cave and hid behind some tall shrubbery and a stack of boulders. Aveline unsheathed her sword and held Wesley’s shield ready. Varric aimed Bianca at the lookout and downed her with a single arrow. After that, it was a rush into the cave. It was clear from the moment they entered the cave that it wasn’t slavers they were dealing with. _

_ It was Blood Mages. _

_ “Bloody hell! Who in Andraste’s name gave you that tip Varric?” Isabela groused as she tossed a throwing knife at a Mage who was ready to fire at Aveline. _

_ “Someone who Bianca would like a few words with!” He replied, firing a bolt in another’s chest. _

_ “Can we have this conversation later?” Aveline asked while she took two Shades down. _

_ “Agreed!” Anders called as he shot spell after spell at the other mages. It was a clear battle between Healer and Blood Mage as the crackling smell and feel of a stormy atmosphere rose up around Isabella. She could taste the tainted metallic air from Blood Magic and the cool, rainstorm air of Healing Magic. She was so focused on the blond bitch that was trying to attack her in the front, Isabella didn’t notice the heat of a Rage Demon at her back. Everything happened quickly after that. _

_ “Isabella, watch out!” Anders called as he shoved her out of the way. He froze the Rage Demon and slashed it with his staff to crumble the ice into pieces. Isabella’s attention left the Blood Mage just long enough for her to get a shot directly at Anders’s head. _

_ “Anders!” She cried as she slashed at the woman’s throat. She dropped down to Anders’s side and gently cradled his head in her lap. “Anders! Speak to me! Can you heal yourself?” _

_ “What happened?” Aveline asked as she rushed to them. Varric tailed her. Both showed equal concern on their faces. Isabella brushed Anders’s bangs from his eyes and looked him over. _

_ “He got hit, but I don’t see any injuries. Should I give him a potion?” _

_ Before they could do anything, Anders’s honey eyes opened. He groaned and slowly sat up from Isabella’s lap. _

_ Aveline smiled and Varric chuckled with a gloved hand through his hair. “You gave us a start there. How are you feeling?” _

_ “Fine, just a bit sore in the leg.” _

_ “The leg? Blondie, you just got hit in the face with some Blood Magic. Maybe check that first.” Varric held a lyrium potion out to the Healer, who took it gratefully. Anders concentrated, holding his hands over his head and inspecting it. After a moment of silence, he dropped his hands. _

_ “I don’t sense anything. Could have been a misplaced shot, or an interrupted spell, I suppose. In any case, let’s get going. Don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m beat.” _

_ “Yeah, sorry Blondie. Let me buy you a bowl of mystery stew before you go. Least I can do for riling you up and dragging you out here.” _

_ Anders laughed. “I’ll take you up on that offer.” _

 

“We thought it was strange that Anders didn’t need healing, but none of us thought anything of it.” Isabella looked more miserable as the story went on. Anders couldn’t blame her, as his stomach felt more and more sick the more she told. She looked at him with dark, heavy eyes. “Can it be fixed?”

Anders shrugged. “Blood Magic isn’t exactly stable. There are plenty of spells meant to wipe memory away, and plenty that can do that accidentally if cast incorrectly. Some can be reversed, others can’t.” He dropped his head in his folded arms. “Maker! Two years?”

“We’ll fix this, Anders.” Hawke said softly. Anders looked up at Hawke suddenly as a realization hit him straight in the chest. His fists tightened and his throat constricted. 

“Hawke… we’re not…” He swallowed and looked at Isabella, who was clearly avoiding his gaze. He looked back to Hawke and hated the pity that was sent back. “Are we?”

Hawke shook his head. “I’m sorry, Anders. We both found love in other people.”

His heart shattered. As far as he could remember, he and Hawke were still riding the high of a new, perfect relationship. Now to know he’d lost him to Maker be damned Isabella? It crushed him. But that did leave one final question. One Anders was terrified to ask. “Then… who…?”

“I think you know the answer to that, Blondie.”

Anders stood up with swimming eyes. “I need to be alone. I’m going to go to my clinic.”

“Um, about that,” Hawke began, uncomfortably.

“No! Tell me I still have my clinic!” Anders spun around.

Hawke’s hands went up immediately, “Yes! You do, it’s just not where you remember it. You have a new one, a better one!” Hawke stood from his seat and threw the two packs over his shoulder with a tight, clearly forced grin. “I’ll show it to you! You’ll love it, it’s really something.”

Anders followed him out of the Hanged Man. “You say that like I’ll hate it.”

Hawke laughed harder than necessary. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Darktown, at least, hadn’t changed any in the two years Anders had missed. Every corner still held a refugee who was begging for food and water. Their eyes lit up at the sight of their dear Healer, a sight Anders would never grow tired of. He may be a wanted apostate who lived a selfish life before, but he is a man who means something to people now. At least that hadn’t gone away. 

Anders glanced at Hawke, who was striding just ahead of him and a pang hit him in the chest. There was a time when Hawke looked at him that way too. Whatever way they parted before, it had to have been easier than the cruel sudden hit to the heart Anders received earlier that morning. On the walk down Anders’s mind had been reeling with ways he could possibly win Hawke back. But then he would remember a certain broody elf who he apparently spent his life with these days and his head spun until he felt dizzy. He tried to recollect any moment between them that could be even close to friendly and he came up short. Fenris would go out of his way to point out how awful mages could be, and Anders would desperately try to dispute him. It always ended the same way: both of them angry and frustrated. Neither of them had gotten anywhere with the other. The idea that any of that could have changed, even in two years, was beyond Anders’s comprehension.

On instinct, Anders made the turn that would lead them to his old clinic, but Hawke shook his head and led Anders in the direction that would lead them practically on the other side of Darktown. They descended some steps, and Anders found himself in the same area as the Mage Underground entrance. Panic struck him and his hand sprung out to grab Hawke’s arm. The burly man arched a brow.

“This is too close to the Mage Underground Hawke,” he hissed. “Fenris is bound to find it here! What were you all thinking?”

An exasperated sigh was his answer. “Fenris picked the spot out himself, Anders. He had the Mage Underground in mind when he did it, too.”

Anders was certain his jaw fell straight through the ground. “Fenris, the Mage-Hating-Elf, chose this place so I can help the Mage Underground? I don’t believe we’re talking about the same man, Hawke.”

Hawke’s shoulders sagged. “I know this is all really hard, Anders. But try to keep an open mind. You were truly happy before this memory thing, I promise.” He continued on.

“Yeah, well,” Anders huffed, “You say he’s changed, but I remember a miserable prat who-”

“And here we are! Hello, Fenris!” Hawke bellowed as he dragged a sliding door open. Fenris spun around with a start. He wore no armor, which seemed odd to Anders, as he’d never seen the man without it. Fenris only wore a simple, black tunic and his leggings. In one hand was a large, mostly empty sack. In the other was a vial filled with Lyrium. Anders tried to keep the shock from his face, but he wasn’t sure he managed it. Fenris was stocking his clinic?

“Hawke,” he nodded to the man. His eyes remained still for a moment before finally moving to Anders. There was clear pain in them that Anders had never seen on the man before. “Are you well, Anders?” His tone was painfully formal. His grip on his items tightened, as if he was forcing himself to hold them instead of what he wanted to do.

Hawke crossed his arms and forced a huge smile. “Anders wanted to see his new clinic. I thought it would be a good idea to show it to him. Try to get things back to normal as quickly as possible.”

Fenris didn’t seem to know what to say to that. Anders could only wait and see. He finally turned around and continued stocking the potions. “How does it compare to the old one?” He asked with an even tone. His back seemed very stiff.

Anders decided to play along, and looked around. Beyond the large, sliding door, was an area that was at least fifty percent larger than his old clinic. At the center were rows of cots with fresh linens that he never had the luxury of putting out before. The walls were lined with shelves containing potions, clean bandages, books on Healing magic and anatomy, and herbs. Pushed into the far corner was a barrel filled with water and a cup. Anders eyed it wearily. “It’s beyond words. This, however, is a little small for bathing.”

Fenris, now finished with his task, looked at the barrel with an arched brow. “Why would you assume it’s for bathing?”

“I mean, I assume I live here, I lived at my last clinic.” Anders looked back at Fenris, who held a grim expression. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Instead of answering, Fenris turned to Hawke. “I don’t think he’ll enjoy his current sleeping quarters.”

Hawke nodded. “You know you don’t need to ask, Fenris.” He turned to Anders. “You can stay at my place, if you like. I have a spare room you could use. It’s not as easily accessed to this clinic as the old one, but it’s comfortable.”

Anders set the cup down back where it was and surveyed the area again. Unlike his old clinic, this place didn’t have a sectioned off area for him to sleep. There were also no signs of his manifesto anywhere. It didn’t appear as if he lived here at all! “Where do I normally live?” Anders looked at Fenris, who was observing his toes as they dug around on the unusually clean floor. “Oh. I see.”

Fenris finally looked up, “You know you are under no obligation to stay with me. I am aware of some strange circumstances. I would loathe to make you uncomfortable, Anders.”

Anders returned to the two men and pondered his options. If he were a patient, he would advise himself to return to life as close to it was before as possible. Surround himself with anything that could possibly trigger a memory. He looked at Hawke and felt that pang in his chest he’d been living with since he learned about his memory loss. The idea of living with him and seeing him so close yet so far out of reach was excruciating. Not to mention if Isabella were to visit, because he was certain there was something between them this morning. “I wouldn’t exactly be comfortable living with Hawke, under the circumstances.”  
To his credit, Hawke looked guilty. “I’m sorry Anders, but you can’t live here. It’s not exactly equipped for living. You have to go somewhere.”

He knew Hawke was right. Anders looked at Fenris, whose hands were balled into fists at his side, and he noticed the broken skin over his knuckles. Anders frowned. “What happened here?”

Fenris looked down and observed his hand. “Who knows?” He spoke in a tone that suggested he certainly did.

“Healer! Healer!” A small voice cried from behind them. All three men spun around as a small boy rushed in. Tears streaked down his dirty face. His auburn hair stood up in all directions and his bright, blue eyes shone. One hand was rubbing his eye and the other was held out to Anders. A shard of glass was deep inside the middle of his palm. Blood dripped through his fingers onto the floor. “I fell!”

Before Anders could respond, Fenris dropped the sack he’d been holding and scooped the boy up in his arms. “Don’t worry, Elrin. We’ll get you taken care of. Shhh.” He set the boy down on a cot near the barrel of water and fetched a cloth with practiced motions. Anders stoof with shock while Fenris cleaned up the boys face and inspected the injury. He looked up at Anders and motioned him closer with his head.

“Is your sister alright?” Fenris asked while Anders knelt beside him, inspecting the damage. The glass was in pretty deep, and the skin around the injury was puckered with the beginning signs of infection. Even with healing, he wasn’t certain there wouldn’t be permanent nerve damage. He was shocked the boy wasn’t screaming himself hoarse. He must be used to pain. The thought saddened Anders. 

“She’s with Momma.” Elrin spoke while sobs escaped his chest. 

Fenris held his hand out for the boy to take. “That’s good. Anders is going to take that glass out, Elrin. It could hurt so I want you to hold my hand as tight as you can.”

The sobbing boy nodded and gripped Fenris’s hand, looking straight into Fenris’s eyes while he steeled himself for pain. Anders wondered how often Fenris had done this with him, but the thought was quickly shoved to the back of his mind. As quickly as he could, he pulled the glass out with one hand and released Healing Magic out the other. Fenris’s brands glowed with a light pulse in reaction to the Magic. Anders waited for a complaint, like he’d always hear before, but none came. He simply sat there and whispered soothing words to the young boy while Anders healed the injury. Once the skin had sealed itself shut over the healed muscle, veins, tendons, and nerves, Anders took the rag Fenris had cleaned the boy’s face with to clean the blood and dirt from his hand. 

“Can you feel this?” Anders asked as he pinched each finger. Elrin nodded and hopped from his cot. 

“Thank you!” He called over his shoulder as he rushed out the door. Anders smiled as he disappeared. Fenris chuckled beside him. Anders arched an eyebrow at the smiling elf. “Something funny?”

“That boy. He always gets himself into trouble. It’s the third time we’ve seen him this week. He’s spirited, though, and takes care of his family.”

In that moment, Anders was certain he could see it: that spark of the Fenris he must have fallen for. A soft smile and empathetic eyes adorned his face. It was a nice change from the brooding and the angry sneer. Anders realized he’d been staring and looked away. “The Hanged Man.”

Both men in the room looked at him. “Pardon?” Hawke asked.

“I’ll stay at the Hanged Man until I get some grasp on this new reality. Who knows,” he smirked, “Varric might be able to tell me some stories to jog my memory.”

Hawke snorted, “I wouldn’t count on them being completely accurate. But it’s not a bad idea.”

Anders looked at Fenris, whose expression was unreadable. “Is that alright with you?” He asked with hesitation. The idea of asking Fenris, of all people, permission, wasn’t sitting well in his gut. But after what he just saw, he couldn’t deny there was something between them. Whatever it was, he couldn’t completely dismiss the elf’s feelings.

Fenris nodded. “It’s as safe a place as any. You should follow me to the mansion first, though. You’ll want some of your belongings with you.”

Anders nodded. They both made their way to Hawke, who offered Fenris the pack he’d been holding. Fenris glared at it like it had offended his great ancestors, but took it nonetheless. “I thank you, Hawke. Though, it is useless to me now.”

“Don’t think like that, Fenris. Have hope! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get home before Brute and Sandal destroy my estate. You two should be fine on your own, right?”

Fenris looked at Anders for an answer, who shrugged. He could get along with the elf for a few hours to retrieve his things and rent a room. He had to admit, he was curious as to where his things were located. What he did see of the mansion that morning suggested neither of them had any possessions.

Hawke left with a salute and an encouraged grin before sauntering out the door and closing it behind him. Anders sighed heavily. “That man.”

“Agreed.”

Anders watched as Fenris gripped a wall covered in shelves of bandages and moved it to the side with less effort than Anders would think. Behind it, was a crude entrance to what appeared to be a cellar. Fenris waited for Anders to pass through before shutting the wall behind him. Both were now enveloped in complete darkness.

“Well… I hope you know your way around without trouble. Or do elves have night vision?” Anders squinted but it was no use. He saw only blackness.

“You do possess the ability to light the room up, do you now?” Fenris mused while he activated his brands. The dim light barely offered them enough visibility to see a foot in front of them. “If not, this will do.”

Anders activated a magelight, which illuminated the near empty cellar more adequately than the lyrium brands. “I do, but I thought magic made you sick or something. It seems to hurt your brands, in the very least.”

“Yours doesn’t.”

Anders paused at that. Fenris noticed and turned around with concern on his face. “Anders?”

“Why doesn’t my magic hurt you?”

Fenris placed a finger on his chin. “I’m not sure. You tried to explain it to me once, but I’m afraid I wasn’t listening. It involved a lot of magical jargon that numbed my mind. Something about Healing Magic, and the fact that you’d been working to heal the pain of my brands, I think.” He resumed his walk, leaving Anders to ponder his words. Even in battle, Fenris refused a healing session even after a gruesome fight. He resigned himself to healing potions and poultices instead. He must really trust Anders to allow him to use magic on him so intimately. 

They continue walking in silence up a flight of stairs to what Anders assumed to be a cellar. It was stocked with fine wines similar to the Agregio he remembered Fenris drinking. Beyond that was another, small stairway up into a grand kitchen. Anders glanced around, but only one stove seemed devoid of dust. The fact that it was used at all was surprising. He didn’t see Fenris as the cooking type. 

He quickly remembered that he, himself, was.

They passed a couple more rooms to the main hall where Fenris ascended the steps. Anders realized he was quickly making his way to the main bedroom he’d emerged from that morning.

“Um, question.” Fenris stopped and looked back. “What are you expecting to find up there, because I don’t remember anything.”

Fenris’s forest green eyes rolled and he continued on without an answer. Anders straightened up with irritation and hurried after.

“Honestly, you blighted elf. If you think to joke that I had nothing at all you’re going to get a taste of a fireball!”

Fenris opened the door. “Are you trying to bait me into an argument? You will not succeed.” He went straight to the chest at the foot of the bed and lifted it open. Inside were a few items Anders couldn’t see from the distance he was standing at. He crossed his arms and looked away. Logically, everything in there could be his, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of invaded privacy. He also didn’t feel like looking at Fenris. The lack of a rise from him was almost as vexing as the idea of him mocking Anders.

“You’ll want this, this, and probably this. Can you think of anything else you’d like with you?” Fenris straightened out and held the items out for Anders to see. He froze.

“My mother’s pillow? You know about it?”

Fenris, who had been standing with his arms outstretched for an uncomfortable amount of time without Anders receiving the items, set them carefully on the bed. “Of course. There’s little we don’t know about each other.” He seemed to catch himself as he visibly stiffened. “Knew, I suppose. You insisted on keeping it in this chest to prevent any ruin from falling upon it. I have that, your manifesto, some more parchment and your favorite quill. I imagine Varric will have an inkwell or two he wouldn’t mind lending you at the Hanged Man. Your robe and pauldrons are in the armoire. Have I missed anything?” He straightened up and watched Anders ponder. He should have answered, but he was stuck on the fact that Fenris knew about his mother’s pillow. That was a sacred item he would have only entrusted to close friends. He could see himself telling Hawke or Varric about it. Isabella  _ maybe _ but Fenris? He shook the thoughts from his head and finally focused on the task at hand.

“Do you… we… have some kind of memorabilia? Something I can look at to maybe invoke a memory?”

Fenris pondered a moment. “I… suppose…” He looked back at the chest wearily. “There is one thing, but I am not certain how wise it would be.”

Anders opened the armoire, searching for his robe. “It can’t be  _ that _ bad. What is it?”

“A journal I keep. You didn’t know about it, but it is filled with some moments we had. The handwriting alone might help you remember something.” Fenris sounded sheepish as he spoke. 

Giving up on his search for the moment, Anders peeked out from the armoire and arched a brow. “Why would your handwriting help me?”

Fenris, who had been kneeling down beside the chest in search for the journal, now stood and produced it. “You taught me how to write.”

This gave Anders pause. He hadn’t realized Fenris never knew how to write. He shouldn’t have been surprised, it’s not as if slaves would have been afforded the luxury. “I see. Well,” he offered a shaky laugh, hoping to shake the tension off, “I feel sorry for you. I must have been one hellish teacher. I’ve about as much patience as a cat. Now where is my robe? It’s not in here.”

Fenris set the journal down on the pile of things Anders was taking with him and stepped up to the armoire. Inside were a handful of tunics, a couple of worn boots, a nice set of travel robes, a black pauldron made from raven feathers, and a sword that had seen better days. Anders recognised it as the sword Fenris used to carry around with him. Fenris pointed at the robes and pauldron with a look of amusement and irritation.

“I see your eyesight is failing you. Did you somehow believe me tall enough to wear this?” He smirked.

Anders looked at the robes again with a frown. “This isn’t what I’m used to. It’s certainly nicer… How did I get it?”

Fenris returned to is pile of items for Anders. “Hawke. He felt it necessary to celebrate when we’d been together for a year. You were given new robes, and I was given my sword. I think he simply felt the need to replace our old items and searched for the best excuse he could find. Now where is Oddy? He should have noticed us come in.”

Anders’s chest shot with ice. “Oddy? Who’s Oddy?” He imagined a child, or some other form of commitment he was certainly not ready for. Why they’d name a child Oddy was beyond him, but the thought frightened him the same.

Before Fenris could answer, the faint sound of a meow was heard from the door. Anders let out a soft gasp as a grey tabby cat sauntered in like he owned the place and leaped up onto the bed, demanding attention from Fenris. The elf smiled and offered his hand. Oddy rubbed his cheek against Fenris’s fingers and then his body. His purr could be heard from across the room.

“You have a cat?” Anders asked, reining in his excitement. He hadn’t even seen a cat since Ser Pounce-A-Lot. He’d wanted to get one, but was never lucky enough. The cat noticed him, finally, and abandoned Fenris to walk circles around Anders’s ankles.

Fenris rearranged the chest to add the item he’d been keeping in his pack and closed the lid, placing Anders’s things in the now empty bag. “He’s technically yours, but he’s decided we share him. When he was a kitten he had a funny walk, like a drunkard. I kept calling him Oddball and the name stuck. He’s clearly happy to see you.”

Anders stooped down to pet Oddy, who was clearly no longer interested as Anders didn’t have any food. A part of him wanted to beg Fenris to let him come with him to the Hanged Man, but Anders knew it wasn’t a good idea. This mansion was hundreds of times more space for the cat than any room at the tavern would offer. 

“Unless you have need of anything else, we’re all set. Are you ready?” Fenris asked with his pack slung over his back. Anders nodded reluctantly, tearing his eyes away from Oddy and looking at Fenris instead. 

“I’m ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not overly exciting yet, but I promise there will be drama in the next chapter! Hope you're enjoying it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick question: Should I include NSFW chapters, would you all like a warning before hand?

Fenris had walked Anders to the Hanged Man, paid for a room for a week, and handed enough coin for three more weeks to Anders. He passed him his belongings and left the building with a pain in his eyes that Anders tried not to dwell on. In all this, Fenris had been more understanding than Anders could imagine himself acting in his place. Before they left the mansion, Anders took Fenris’s hand and healed his knuckles before he could think about it. His stomach churned and his heart hammered in his chest. He half expected Fenris to punch his hand through Anders’s chest for daring to touch him with his “filthy magic”. But Fenris only stood there with a look of shock on his face and let him work. They didn’t speak of the moment, but Anders could feel them both thinking on it while they walked. His fingers tingled where they had touched Fenris’s. It was a pleasant sensation, if not a bit distracting.

Anders stepped into the room that would be his home until he figured out what to do. At the far end of the room was a decent sized bed pushed against the wall lengthwise. There was a wash bin and a chamber pot beside it, and a worn wardrobe against the wall to his left. The floors were scuffed wood littered with suspicious cuts and scrapes and some places were stained a tint of pink Anders tried not to think about. It was a modest dwelling, but still miles from his little cubby in his clinic. 

His  _ old _ clinic, Anders reminded himself. 

Shaking the thought away and looked back at the room. Beside the door was a chest that could fit Hawke’s dog, Brute, if he curled up tightly enough. Attached was a lock that didn’t fit the design of the chest. It was clearly Dwarven-made and likely couldn’t be picked even by Varric. On top of the chest was the key, and a note:

_ Stay safe, Blondie. Need anything, I’m just down the hall _

_ -Varric _

Anders smiled and pocketed the note. He should have figured Hawke would have sent word to Varric about his living decision. He unlocked the chest and opened it up. He’d expected it to be empty, but inside were a few essentials Varric must have added that day. Inside were a few apples, a wedge of goat cheese, a couple of health and lyrium potions and a modest first aid of elf root powder and bandages. There was also a loaf of fresh bread wrapped in a cloth. The smell made Anders’s stomach growl. He eagerly picked it up and cheese beside it. There was a bottle of wine that looked like it was of the same brand Fenris drank. Anders wondered if it was put there to jog his memory, as Justice would never let him get drunk off of it. A few sips at most.

Anders bit into the bread and delighted in how soft the inside was yet enveloped by a perfect crust. He was just about to dig into the cheese when he realized how quiet it had been in his head since he woke. There was no immediate urge to heal everyone or save all of the Mages in the Circle. Anders frowned as he nibbled on his bread and cheese. Come to think of it, Justice hadn’t made an appearance at all. He hadn’t given any disapproval at Anders’s pining over Hawke, he hadn’t given that little tingle of joy when Fenris’s lyrium brands were around. He was silent.

A knock on the door brough Anders back to the room. He rose to open it, but his guest was already sauntering in. Hawke always did ignore physical boundaries when it came to his friends. “Settling in well?”

Anders nodded as he wrapped up the rest of the food and returned it to the chest. “I just got here, so it’s still pretty new.”

“I see you’ve already spotted Oriana’s bread. The woman has such a talent for baking. I’m glad she enjoys it, because I don’t think I’d survive if she stopped.” Hawke leaned against the doorframe with a fond smile. Anders began unpacking his things and placing them inside the chest. He paused a moment at Fenris’s journal, but decided now wasn’t the time to begin reading it. 

“Who would this Oriana be?” He asked idly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“I did too.”

Hawke was silent a moment, as if he wasn’t sure if it would be appropriate to laugh or sigh at the comment. He settled for ignoring it. “She’s my maid. We rescued her from slavery when Fenris’s former master’s apprentice came to town to find him.”

“I see.” Anders closed and locked the chest and straightened up to face Hawke. “There’s something bothering me.”

“Oh?”

“It’s Justice. I haven’t heard from him since I woke up. He’s never been this quiet before. It’s really unnerving when you’re used to a Spirit to be so alone in your mind.”

Hawke’s facial expression was some odd mixture of fear and guilt. Anders caught it right away and his brows furrowed. “Hawke?”

“Well, you see Anders. Justice is… well, he’s back in the Fade. He’s really happy there though! He watches out for us, keeps Merril, you, and myself away from demons when we dream. It’s pretty nice, actually.” He scratched his bread with a thoughtful eye, “You never did say how you did it. You and Fenris just hiked up to Sundermount one day, and the next we all know, Justice is back home.” A sound of Isabella’s cooing stole Hawke’s attention. He smiled down the hall and then looked back at Anders. “I’ll see you later, Anders. You got used to it before, you’ll do it again I promise.” And with that, he was gone.

Anders’s hands were shaking. His stomach twisted and threatened to remove his meal. Fenris had forced him to give up Justice? How could he do that? Why would Anders agree to it? Justice had become a part of him. They were partners. Justice made Anders a better person. Before they met, he only cared about himself and what he needed and wanted. As long as he could be free, he cared little about the plights of his Mage brethren. And Fenris had taken that from him!

Anders paced the small room. He turned every possible scenario over in his mind, trying to understand. Only one reasoning seemed possible. Fenris forced him to get rid of Justice. 

He sank to the bed with his head in his hands. He should have expected this. Fenris had called him  _ Abomination _ through his teeth since they met. Of course they couldn’t possibly be together with Justice in the picture. Anders glanced over at the chest that still contained the journal Fenris had given to him. He could read it. He could look through each entry and see if Fenris had explained why he did this to Anders. But it didn’t matter. He knew why. Mages alone disgusted Fenris. Abominations, however, he couldn’t possibly handle. 

Anders sighed and slowly shed his boots. He tried to deny the pain in his chest and the stinging behind his eyes. He’d been a fool. He almost convinced himself that this could be real. He almost thought Fenris could really love him and accept everything he is. He could only blame himself for such fantasies. 

He was almost done shedding his coat when a spark of determination hit him. Decision made, he quickly pulled his shoes back on and buckled his coat together. He snatched up his staff as he pulled the door closed and locked it. Pocketing both the door and chest key, he hurried out of the Hanged Man. It would be nearing sunset now, so the thugs would be starting to creep out of their holes. Anders knew he’d need to be careful, but he was determined. He flew out the door into Lowtown and made his way up the steps. He weaved through the crowds heading home for the evening and walked quickly with his head down. He made it to the door without much incident, however, once he saw it, his determination faltered. He had been ready to attack with blazes of fire. But now that he was here, he deflated. The look of anguish and sadness that had been in Fenris’s eyes since he returned to Kirkwall that morning was all he could think of. WIth a heavy sigh, he turned away from the door. He would do this later. When he did turn around, however, he was face-to-face with the elf, who was certainly shocked to see him.

“Anders?”

Anders nodded, but his throat prevented him from speaking. Fenris carried a basket of items that likely came from the market. He wore no armor, but his large blade was very present on his back. Anders’s stomach hurt with nerves, but he couldn’t back out now. “Hello, Fenris.”

Fenris walked past him to the mansion door and motioned Anders to follow. They walked silently into the main hall and turned into the dining room. Fenris set the basket down on the large table. Anders found it amusing that such a long table would only hold three chairs. He imagined the rest had long rotted away. With only two people living in the space, they likely felt no urgency to replace them.

Fenris’s brands were lit, but they provided only a little light. He set out a few candles that were half used then searched around. “Where did I put the flint?” He mumbled to himself.

“Probably lost it, I’d imagine. Since I’m usually here,” Anders said as he lit them himself. 

Fenris turned around and coughed a small laugh. “Probably. So, pleased as I am to see you, you have caught me by surprise. Did you… remember something?” Even in the small candlelight, Anders could see the hope in Fenris’s green eyes. He shook his head, and his own heart panged at the crushed look that replaced it. “I see. May I ask what occasioned you here?”

He was being formal, Anders could tell. He wasn’t sure how to act around this new and old Anders. The tension was higher than Anders was comfortable with. He decided it would be best to get it over with. “I actually had a question. I realized something, and I had to ask.”

Fenris arched a brow as he set the bought items on the table. “Will I need wine for this?” He was half joking, but Anders could see the real concern buried beneath it.

“Probably not, it’s a simple ‘yes’, ‘no’ question.”

Fenris set out some kind of tart, a couple of apples, and a small jar of honey. Anders wanted to comment on the fact that this assemble was dessert, not dinner, but that would have to be a jab for another day. Fenris held a finger up and crossed the room to where a bottle of wine stood. He returned and uncorked the top, plopping down in his chair and held it ready. “I am ready. Ask your question.”

It was comical, how much Anders clearly had rubbed off on Fenris. The way he added subtle humor in such serious situations. He drew a deep breath and focused on his question. “I need to know, Fenris. Is Justice gone because of you?” 

For a long moment, there was silence. Fenris looked at his meal and took a long, slow swing of his wine from the bottle. It was a normal sight for Anders, but judging from the neglected wine glass at the table, it wasn’t for this time. After a moment, Fenris set down the bottle. He swallowed just as slowly before he finally answered. “Yes.”

He had admitted it. He had forced Justice away and he didn’t even deny it. Anders wasn’t sure if that made him more or less upset. If he didn’t even bother lying about it, he must feel it was his right. Anders’s fists clenched at his sides and they grew hot. Fenris finally glanced at him and jumped up from his chair.

“Anders! Calm down; you’ll burn this place down!”

“Why? Because you hate what Mages are capable of?” Anders held his palm up were a hungry fire was rolling off his fingertips. “Because you despise Magic? This is who I  _ am _ Fenris! Whatever you tried to make me into over the past two years is not!”

Anders silently dared Fenris to fight, to spit his hatred out at him. But there was something he’d never seen in Fenris’s eyes: Fear.

“Anders! Please! I need you to calm down! Once that fire leaves your hand you are no longer immune to it!” Fenris’s hands were up, and a stray flame Anders hadn’t controlled singed at his palm. Fenris cried out and backed away. Anders immediately closed his fists and snuffed the flame. His anger was still very present, but he feared Fenris’s reaction. He knew Fenris would love to exploit this moment as a reason Mages must be chained. “See?” Fenris barked.  _ Here we go _ , “Do you see this? This is the reason I didn’t tell you yet! You weren’t ready!” Fenris cradled his hand to his chest and turned his back to Anders. “I am sorry, Anders. I cannot do this. I am trying to remain patient and understanding, but this is too much!” He turned over his shoulder. Anders couldn’t see his face, as his snowy hair covered his eyes. His mouth was set, though.

“Then don’t bother with me, Fenris. And for your information, I can’t ask Justice, because he’s  _ gone _ !” And with that, Anders spun on his heel, and stormed out of the mansion, leaving Fenris to dress his wound himself, and let the tears fall freely in silent sobs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my awesome Beta Estridde, who has looked at all of the chapters and will be my Beta throughout, so any problems have been fixed. Wooooo
> 
> Also, this chapter does contain mild Awakening spoilers, but no more than Dragon Age 2 does, honestly. Enjoy!

Sleep was a stranger to Anders that night. He was tempted to use a spell on himself, but until he knew what kind of blood magic was at work in his head, that wasn’t a good idea. So he tossed, turned, and stared at the ceiling he couldn’t see in the darkness. He thought about Fenris more often than he was comfortable with. He went over the visit in his mind a thousand times. Fenris had been completely open with him about Justice, and he hadn’t lashed out at Anders for being a Mage when he had gotten hurt by his magic. Whatever happened between them, Fenris was still miles from the man Anders remembered, and that was the most frustrating part of it all. 

Frustrated, Anders threw his covers back and stepped out of the room. There was entirely too much room in his head without Justice tugging at him to save everyone. He felt like he was alone. The idea frightened him more than everything else.

The bar wasn’t open yet, but there were plenty of patrons who were passed out along the tables from the previous evening. Anders picked his way over them and grabbed a bottle from the loose clutch of a man who was leaning over the table and snorting through his hair. He found a relatively clean table and down a swig. This was a mistake on his part. The alcohol felt like fire running down his throat and took him by surprise. He lurched forward as it ejected from his nose and glowered at the bottle. The burn robbed him of his breath and he was wracked with a hacking cough as his body desperately tried to get it out of his throat.

“It’s been awhile since you’ve had anything that strong, Blondie. I’d take it easy.” Varric said as he sat down across from the table. He took the bottle from Anders and took a healthy swig himself. Anders tried to roll his eyes, but he hadn’t stopped coughing. Water ran down his face from his eyes and nose. Varric set down the bottle and waited for the fit to pass. “Why are you drinking before dawn anyway? That’s not like you. Bad dream?”

Anders cleared his throat and coughed once more. The burn was still there, but it didn’t hurt as badly now, “No, didn’t get a single wink last night.”

Varric seemed to be contemplating those words while he observed the bottle in front of him. “That’s no good. I have a potion that’ll help with that, you made it yourself a couple weeks ago. Not sure if it’s a good idea though, you didn’t have dreams in mind when you made it for me.”

Anders rubbed his eyes that still watered, “Dreams aren’t the problem anyway. I should go to my clinic. Patients probably need me there.” 

Anders rose to stand, but a quick hand grabbed the sleeve of his coat. Varric shook his head and stood from his seat. “You’re no good to those people if you’re dead on your feet. You know you can’t regenerate mana like this. Get a few hours in and I’ll let you go. You can even use my room. You won’t find a more comfortable bed than what I’ve got, trust me.”

Anders sighed, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Varric.”

Varric began to drag him towards the stairs that led to his room, “For multiple reasons, Blondie, it is.”

Anders wasn’t certain he wanted to know what other reasons there could be. “If you draw something obscene on my face while I’m out, I’m coming after you.”

They passed through the door that led to Varric’s large room. The Dwarf closed the door behind them and meanandered toward a shelf that held potions of many colors. “No promises. I can assure you that if you do find something like that on your face, it was Hawke.” He produced a lilac-colored potion that glowed slightly and gestured toward the bed. Anders considered refusing, as he had a perfectly functioning bed two doors down the hall, but the exhaustion suddenly hit him in that moment. He swayed on his feet. Two doors down or not, that sounded like a long way to walk.

“Alright… just a few hours.” He took the vial and downed it, returning the empty glass to Varric, who was gathering Bianca and a few travel necessities. Anders slowly shed his coat and boots while Varric quietly left the room. 

The instant Anders’s head hit the pillow, the potion did its job. He closed his eyes and walked into the Fade. He stood in a tavern much like the Hanged Man. The Black City hung above him, and some of the chairs floated in the air. There didn’t appear to be a person in sight. Anders counted his blessings. Dealing with a Demon was the last thing he wanted right now. He made his way across the room to the door and passed through. Outside was a twisted, spiralling staircase that went straight up. At each floor was a platform, as if it led to a room. Anders groused at sight, as it looked just like the staircase in the center of the Fereldan Circle stripped of its walls. 

“You are not ready to climb those stairs. It would be wise to turn back, for now.”

Anders jumped and spun around. There didn’t seem to be anyone around to speak. He looked back at the stairs as they wiggled and blinked as everything does in the Fade, like they were all under green water.

“We must speak, Anders.”

Anders turned again, and this time he saw a hooded figure in the corner, sipping from a tankard. He couldn’t see who it was, but he could feel the pull of a Fade being. It didn’t feel malevolent, like a Demon, but it wasn’t playful like a Wisp. He rarely encountered Fade Spirits, as his mind was frequently plagued with anguish and anger. One more glance at the stairs, and Anders shut the door. He turned back and made his way to the hooded figure who watched him. He pulled up a chair and sat down, keeping his staff in his lap where he could easily access it.

“Who are you? And why do we need to talk so badly?” It occured to Anders that the voice sounded familiar. It left him reminders of his time at Vigil’s Keep. He couldn’t quite place why, though.

The hooded figure leaned forward. There was no face, only ripples of glowing Fade that formed a shape. “Perhaps a different image would better suit you.” His shape pulled in and stretched around until it had created the form of a man. It then solidified until a tall man with closely shaven hair, milky, dead eyes, and a face sunken with decay and rot sat before him in rusted Warden armor. “I trust this form will do, as it is the only face you’ve seen on me that is not your own.”

Anders’s jaw fell at a sight he never thought he’d see again. His fingers twitched to reach out and see if he was real, but he kept his hands still. Justice hadn’t worn Kristoff’s body since he and Anders joined together. “I… I thought you were gone. You couldn’t get back to the Fade before- I… how?”

Justice looked at his armored fingers as he toyed with the tankard in front of him. “So it is true. You have lost your memories, as I have been told.”

Anders frowned and leaned forward, “Yes. How did you know that, though? You shouldn’t be connected to my mind anymore.”

“I am not. When I returned here, my connection to your world should have been severed and my interest in it removed. However, my time with you had changed me, greatly, and my connection to you and your companions never waned, in spirit.”

Anders’s head was spinning. He shook it, as if that would help. “I don’t understand.”

“I was given a choice, when I returned. I could leave this place and join the rest of the Fade as I was before the Baroness. Or I could stay here is my own pocket of the Fade,” he gestured around them, “And I can change it at will. Here is where you and your companions will enter first while they dream. Just like me, they may choose to leave it, as you nearly did. Your Mage friends are safe here, but they will not dream as they used to. They take this trade gladly.

“As for how I know of your memories, it was Fenris who told me mere hours ago in your time. He suffers greatly.”

Anders straightened and stared Justice straight in his dead eyes. “Fenris? Why were you talking to Fenris? He forced you out! Do you not realize that could have killed you? Why is he even here? Why do you have a connection with him?”

Anders could have gone on longer, but Justice slammed his fist against the table and a loud crack and boom sounded throughout the tavern. Anders silenced immediately and folded his arms. Justice should be furious with Fenris. He should want some justice done for himself. Why would he let him in like this?

“I will show you the night Fenris asked to remove me from you, but you must be prepared. This will be a manifestation of my own memory through your body. You will live through it yourself once more. Will you do this? Will you understand?” Justice stared him down with his unblinking eyes. Anders used to hate speaking to Justice when he was trapped inside Kristoff’s body, but he had eventually gotten used to it. Velanna never did, as the smell of the rotting corpse kept her away. Anders always saw that as a nice side benefit of conversing with Justice. He stared back at those eyes and then looked around the tavern that was slowly shifting form. He could barely admit it to himself, but Justice could see it. He was afraid. Whatever he saw or felt back then would certainly clash with his current memories and emotional state. The process would be mind boggling at least. But most frightening of it all, was the truth. He was so certain Fenris intentions were for selfish gain. If he was wrong…. 

Anders looked back at Justice as he began to fade into the background of what was beginning to form Fenris’s mansion. “I’m ready.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just got a new job so I may be posting less frequently now. I'll try to do so as often as possible. Already working on the next chapter and my beta is keeping me on my toes.

Anders could feel the change. He was present and aware of himself in the present, but he was also very aware of his thoughts in the moment Justice was showing him as well. He felt his body move on its own, but he didn’t feel as if he didn’t have control over it. He felt as if his own mind were telling it what to do. A flash of irritation rose up on him as he entered the bedroom he and Fenris had been sharing. Fenris was sitting on the bed, clearly fuming. He had been in the process of shedding his armor. He sat with only his breastplate on when he looked up through his bangs. Anders could feel the tension in the air, but he deliberately avoided looking at Fenris. They’d had this conversation before. He didn’t want to have it again.

“Anders…”

“Fenris, don’t! You know I can’t! It could kill him!” He finally whirred around to face the defeated man hunched over. He looked up at Anders through his bangs as if the moment tortured him. “Why he told you is beyond me! He never liked this arrangement to begin with. He knows there are bigger things in this world than me.”

“No!” Fenris shot up, flames in his eyes. His brands lit up brightly. Justice purred in the back of Anders’s mind.

You’re not helping me here! Anders scolded. 

Fenris stalked over to Anders and shoved him against the wall. Present Anders felt immediate fear, but the Anders in the memory felt nothing but annoyance and desperation. Fenris pressed his body against Anders’s chest. The cold metal of the breastplate pressed against Anders’s body through the thin fabric of his undershirt where his coat was parted. He winced against the sudden cold but otherwise held his ground. Fenris’s right hand was flat against the wall on the side of Anders’s head, while his right hand caressed Anders’s face. The burning rage in his eyes dimmed down to embers of pain and affection. “You may feel as if the world doesn’t need you, but you need to realize my world is you. I will not stand by while you work to get yourself killed. Even Justice has had second thoughts. How just is it really for you two to work in the Mage Rebellion when you both are slowly fading away while you do it?”

Anders’s jaw ground together as he looked into the eyes that were a green he’d never seen in any man: human or elf. “Is that an order?” His voice shook. Their control in the relationship had been a very delicate line. In the bedroom Anders loved leaving control in Fenris’s capable hands. He knew just where Anders’s limits were and took him just to them before reeling back. In everything else, however, Fenris knew all too well not attempt an order. Anders’s mind immediately went back to the Circle when a strong Templar would order him to do some awful things. Such as the day in solitary confinement when a Templar dumped his meal on the filthy stone floor and ordered him to eat. Anders lost that meal later at the humiliation and the near satisfaction he got at the simple interaction, even if it was only a man watching him eat like a dog. He had yearned for any kind of socialization so much he would do anything. When the Templars learned that, they used it. Fenris knew this. Present Anders felt a painful spike of fear. Even the memory version of Anders was feeling nervous for Fenris’s answer.

The elf stared into Ander’s eyes deeply, as if he was searching for something there. His face crumpled in pain and he suddenly dropped. Panic curled its fingers around Anders’s heart as he dropped with him. He immediately felt out with his magic for injuries he couldn’t see, but none were found. Fenris was on his knees with his head down close to the floor. In the moment, both versions of Anders were at a total loss for what was happening. Fenris was physically fine! “Fenris, what’s happening? Fen, Love, I need you to say something!”

Fenris held perfectly still as if he hadn’t heard a word Anders said. He pulled back to get a good look at him and he suddenly realized what was happening. His stomach dropped below the earth and a chill slithered up his spine. Fenris was kneeling and prostrating himself… just as a slave would a Magister. 

“Fenris,” the word escaped his mouth like a soft whisper. Justice was fuming in the back of his mind. Fenris had confided in him many times of what had happened to him during his time as a slave. He had said many times he would never kneel again. He would rather die than submit to a Mage. The injustice of the past he lived through as well as this moment disgusted Justice. Anders’s eyes burned and his throat constricted. He gently laid a hand on Fenris’s shoulder, who flinched at his touch. He was in a survival mode Anders could barely understand himself. He swallowed back the pain in his throat. How could Fenris feel like this with him? He never gave him any indication that he would treat him the way Danarius did. “I’m not Danarius. You are not a slave. I need you to look at me, please.” He spoke as softly as he could. Fenris relaxed his pose and sat up with grace a practiced slave would have down to his bones. He still didn’t meet Anders’s eyes.

“I swore I would never bow to anyone again,” he spoke quietly, looking at his hands., “I never thought I would.”

“Then why did you?” Anders lightly brushed his fingertips over Fenris’s hand. He felt as if Fenris was a spooked animal that would bolt at the slightest movement. He tried to be careful. He had vowed to never hurt him, yet he somehow had.

“To prove to you that I would do anything for you. If I must kneel and beg you to save yourself and Justice, I would. He is turning into a demon within you. More every day. You see it, he sees it, and I see it. You will become an abomination and I. Will. Lose. You. I would rather see myself a slave again before that happens.” His voice was gravelly, and full of thick emotion. He finally looked up at Anders, and there were tears that had streaked down his cheeks. His brows were furrowed with determination. “I am begging you, Anders. I would never command you. I hope you know that.”

As Fenris spoke, Anders’s heart broke a little more. He felt sick. He had brought Fenris to this point. He had suggested something unspeakable. Of course Fenris would never use Anders’s pain against him. He knew that. He dropped his head in defeat as Fenris’s words sunk in. It wasn’t his life anymore. The moment he and Fenris had fallen in love, it was the two of them. Somehow, he had lost sight of that. Justice was silent, as if giving his permission. “I don’t know if he’ll survive it. The Keeper wasn’t sure.”

Fenris’s face lit up immediately with hope and gratitude, “You will do it then?” He grasped Fenris’s hand with vice strength, as if letting go would mean losing him.

Anders closed his eyes and offered an apology to Justice before he spoke. “Yes, I will do it. Tonight. Let us go to Sundermount.”

 

Anders’s world shifted around him. The mansion and Fenris dissolved into the background. Justice stood where Fenris had been, staring unblinking at Anders. Anders’s chest heaved as he was pulled from the memory. Tears coated his face and he felt a deep loss he couldn’t explain. He felt as if his whole world had crumbled before his eyes. He looked at Justice as he pieced together what he had just seen. “I- I don’t understand. I thought you were going to show me what happened! How did we send you back to the Fade!”

Justice barely moved as he spoke. “You wished to know if the decision was forced upon you. It was not. Your anger had been influencing me and warping me. I was nearly Vengeance when it happened. Fenris risked his life to ensure my safe return here. He allowed you use of his lyrium skin, and it nearly killed him. I do not wish to relive this moment, as it was an injustice to Fenris. I must atone for that.”

Anders’s mind buzzed with more questions than answers, “I… I don’t- what?”

Justice did not answer, as he was fading before Anders’s eyes. 

“No! Justice, wait!” He grasped into nothingness as his physical eyes opened to a dim room. His chest heaved and his body was covered in a cold sweat. He rolled out of the bed and groaned at the splitting pain in his head. He simply did not understand what he’d seen. Fenris literally bowed to him and begged him to spare his own life? How was that even possible?

With trembling hands, he searched the pockets of his coat that was draped over a chair in the corner until he found the key to the chest in the room. His hands refused to cooperate with him and it took nearly two minutes to finally unlock the chest. He flung the contents around until he found what he was looking for. A plain, leather cover that could contain his whole life, that he remembered nothing of. Fenris’s journal felt soft to the touch. His fingertips traced the spine as if it were a delicate artifact. He stared at it while his dream fever cooled on his skin. He needed to know what was inside. He was given permission by the owner of the thoughts within. And yet, he felt as if it would be a crime to even dare…. 

He slowly set it back in and stared at it until he calmed his heart rate. He stood up and paced the room, trying to clear his head. He and Fenris had had a deeply intimate relationship. They trusted each other with their deepest fears, secrets and dreams. He could feel that when he watched the scene. This was all real! They loved each other!

Anders stopped in his tracks. Fenris didn’t love him, he still does. And each moment Anders doesn’t remember their time together is hurting him. The memory of Dream Fenris’s agony at the thought of losing Anders flashed in his mind and he winced against it. He needed to make this right. 

So he returned to the chest, looked in and finally picked up the journal. With a pounding heart and an aching stomach, he opened to the first page.

_To Fenris,_

_As congratulations on how well your writing’s going, I thought you might like somewhere to put your thoughts this Saturnalia. You are not allowed to write bad things about me in here though. I may just snoop._

_All my love,_

_Anders_

Anders knew his own handwriting well enough to know this was no fake. He wrote this, there was no doubt about it. He swallowed. His mouth felt as if he’d eaten nothing but hot sand. He ignored his discomfort and flipped the page.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge shout out to my awesome beta who is squeezing edit time I her ridiculous schedule!

The first thing Anders noticed was the handwriting. Clearly, Fenris had been learning recently, as the letters were very rigid and precise. The second thing he noted was the clear spelling errors. It was evident that Fenris had been unable to write for much of his life. Ander idly wondered who taught him how. He drew a deep breath and finally began to read.

_Saturnalea was yestrday. I’d never dreamd I cud celibrate a Saturnalea with someone I cared about. I truely never believed I wud be able to write about it after. Anders has given me both. He is tierles and endlessly patient wen it comes to teaching me. He’s helpd me spell half of the words I’m writing now without a hint of iritation. He has told me he loves me. I wish I had the curage to say it back, for it is how I feel. Nothing wud be wors than living without him. I no this. It is late, and Anders needs rest. He sleeps better wen I’m in bed with him. I shall write mor wen I can._

Anders wanted to put the book down against the flash of shame and guilt he felt, but he forced himself to continue. He owed it to Fenris to try to remember.

_It has been some time since I’v written here. My last entry was embarasing to say the least. My spelling and writing have both improved greatly in the last few months. Anders has said if there isn’t a sword in my hand, there is a book. I am hesitant to agree, but he is correct. My love of reading only grows with each volyume I find._

_I worry for him. His clinic is in the farthest corner of Darktown where he’d be trapped if he were discovered. I wish he could open his clinic somewhere safer, somewhere I can keep an eye on him and keep him safe. I think I’ll talk to Varric about that_.

_After looking at the basement to this manshon, I’ve realized there is plentifel space for Anders’s clinic. It is attached directly to the manshon so he can come home imediately after, and it would be simple to hide the entrance from veiw. I showed the space to Varric and he agreed. We put the place together before Anders returned from Sundermount with Hawke. I can’t wait for him to see it!_

The next few entries were of little consequence. They mostly involved meals together, some idle thoughts Fenris had on a story, how much he couldn’t stand Swords and Shields, but how he loved Hard in Hightown. Fenris’s spelling and writing definitely improved over time. Anders was almost ready to put the journal down when he came to a very interesting entry. It was written in shaking lines and a hasty scrawl. There were points Anders almost couldn’t read it.

_I don’t know what else to do. Talking about this certainly won’t help. Anders is worried, but I can’t talk about it to him. Not now, perhaps not ever. He is hurt. I hurt him. I cannot ignore that fact nor live with it, but I didn’t know what to do._

_We’d been in bed together many times throughout the months we’d been together, but this time was different. My markings flashed as Anders tried to incorporate healing magic in some attempt to stave off the pain they cause. It was then that I started to remember! I saw flashes of my past and my memories before the markings. They all came at once and before I could even grasp a single moment I saw before me they were gone. Anders was above me trying to get my attention. He was afraid. I was afraid. I left the bed and went straight to Hawke. He couldn’t understand either. “Why isn’t this a good thing?” he asked. It was too much! The pain was more than I could handle. I must end it with him. I cannot work all of this out and him at the same time. I am sorry Anders. You deserve so much better than I could ever hope to offer._

Anders didn’t hesitate. He turned the page so quickly he nearly ripped it. His heart was racing and aching. The thought that Fenris was in so much pain he wanted to end it with him… he needed to know more.

 _Slavers tried to attack. Anders and Justice formed together to take them out before Hawke or Isabella could touch them. He then said something about not caring whether I’d let him, he’ll protect and care for me. I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t. They were sent by Hadriana, I had to stop her._  

Anders continued to the next one.

_This is it. I’ve done it. Anders will never speak to me again. After killing Hadriana I felt such a rage inside me, I could only lash out. Anders tried to comfort me, but I would have none of it. I shoved him away with more force than I wanted to and spat about Mages and how all of them would do the same. Even the instant I said it I regretted it. There was so much anger and pain in Anders’s eyes. I couldn’t look at him. I left. Now I’m drinking from the bottle alone. Even if there is a sister out there for me, and Hadriana wasn’t lying, what kind of family can I offer her? I am a disease that should be exterminated. Varania is better off without me, and so is Anders._

Anders couldn’t look any longer. All this journal was doing was upsetting and confusing him more. He needed to clear his head. He returned the journal to the chest, locked it and dressed to leave. He needed a moment of normal life that didn’t revolve around Fenris. He barely opened the door when he heard something he never expected to hear.

“Magister Danarius, I have arranged a meeting. Tomorrow at noon, Fenris will meet me here.” A woman with a soft voice spoke in the hallway. Anders quickly glanced around and saw no one within eyesight. He closed his door as quickly as possible and leaned against the wall closest to the voices around the corner. At the mention of both Fenris and Danarius, his blood spiked. He tried to reign his temper in and remain calm. He needed to know as much as he could before acting.

“Very good, Varania. Your loyalty will serve you well as my apprentice.” A cold voice spoke like a slithering snake whispering in Anders’s ear. He shuddered and quickly walked away. Down the hall was Varric’s room. One glance and Anders knew he wasn’t in. This could only mean he was out with Hawke somewhere. That meant Isabella was out too. Anders cursed under his breath and made a quick decision. He needed to warn Fenris. 

He moved with the leasure and stride of any casual man who had nothing to hide as he made his way out of the Hanged Man. He had learned to keep his composure when he escaped the Circle. If he wanted to hide in plain sight, he needed to maintain calm. He was only good at it in certain situations. Luckily, this was one of them. 

The instant he was out the door, he bolted for the stairs that led to Hightown. He prayed to the Maker that Fenris would be home and not out with Hawke. A day out with Hawke could easily end at the Hanged Man if Varric’s involved. The chances double with Isabella. He took the steps two at a time and ducked around merchants and nobles out on their morning routines as he made it to the last flight of stairs he needed to climb to get to the nicest buildings in Hightown. His breath felt like blades passing through his lungs by the time the large door was in sight. He leaned against it to catch his breath while he pounded on it as hard as he dared. He refused to let up. He couldn’t tell how long he stood out there waiting for someone to answer, but it was clearly too long. 

“Give it two seconds, Blondie. He’ll answer in a minute. It’s a long walk to the door, you know.”

Anders spun around to see Hawke, Isabella, Merrill, and Varric standing at the door behind him. All of them held different levels of concern on their faces. As far as they heard last, Anders wasn’t exactly speaking to Fenris for fun these days. Before Anders could answer, the door he’d been leaning on gave way, and he fell into a cold, jagged set of armor. He heard an “oof” and arms instantly wrapped around him.

“Venhedis, what is going on?” Fenris demanded. Anders straightened up and stepped away from the puzzled elf and cleared his dry throat. Fenris glanced at Hawke for an answer while Anders composed himself. 

“I just got here. I’m not sure what’s happening at the moment. Anders was here before us, banging on your door like a mad man.” Hawke shrugged and made a move to touch Anders’s shoulder. 

He shrugged it off without thinking and gripped Fenris’s biceps, looking directly into the elf’s eyes. He looked almost afraid. “It’s Danarius. He’s here, in Kirkwall.”

The fear and concern immediately dissolved into rage and Fenris’s whole body became rigid. There were soft gasps from their friends. “Where is he?”

Anders shook his head, “There’s more.”

“I don’t care! I will rip his heart out myself this moment! Where is he Anders?” He wrenched himself from Anders’s grip and stepped inside to retrieve his blade from the weapon stand. Anders couldn’t think of a better way to say it other than to be direct.

“He’s at the Hanged Man with his apprentice. Varania.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it been so long. New job and some other things, but this story hasn't been abandoned, I swear!

    There was silence for an uncomfortable length of time after Anders spoke. Fenris seemed frozen with a look of wide-eyed shock on his face. No one dared breath for fear of setting off what was likely a fragile explosive. Fenris’s shock faded gradually to hurt, then betrayal, and finally anger. “Then I will kill her too.”

    Anders placed a hand on his arm again, then repeated when he was shaken off. “We need to plan this properly, Fenris. We can’t just go in now. We don’t know where they are.”

    “The Hanged Man, as you said yourself.” Fenris moved to stalk down to Lowtown, but Anders’s grip tightened. Fenris spun around with a sneer that wrinkled his nose and bared his teeth, “Let me go!”

    Anders recoiled and clutched at his chest with his free hand, as if he could prevent Fenris from ripping his heart out with the extra coverage. It took all his willpower to keep his grip on Fenris, who looked at least a little guilty.

    Anders knew he would regret his words, but he needed Fenris to focus. He held his grip, looked Fenris straight in the eye, and said, “Is that a command?”

    Fenris’s eyes immediately shone and his sneer left him. He yanked his hand from Anders’s grip and changed direction. “Anyone who will help me, come into the mansion. If we must strategize, we will do it here.”

    They all made their way into the mansion with awkward, mechanical movements. Anders held his head down and scripted his heartfelt apology in his mind. He knew it would hurt Fenris to hear that from him, but he needed him to stop before he ran into a losing battle. Fenris was at the top of the steps with a tight hand on the rail. He looked down at Anders and no one else. “I will speak with you a moment.” His voice was rigid and tight. His composure was already faltering. He didn’t wait for Anders’s answer. He immediately entered the bedroom.

    “Well… it was nice knowing you all,” Anders forced a shaky laugh.

    Merrill’s bright eyes were wide with concern. “Is he alright?”

    “I know this isn’t the time, Sparkle Fingers,” Isabella drawled, “But what exactly just happened?”

    Anders bit his lip. Of course no one but Fenris, Justice, and himself would have known about that moment. “Let’s just say, I said what I had to to keep him safe. He might be upset at me, but I’d rather he be angry than dead. We shouldn’t be long. Think of a plan in the meantime.”

    Anders worked his way up the steps with heavy feet. Whatever he was to face in there wasn’t going to be pretty. He drew a deep breath to steady himself as he twisted the knob of the door and let himself in. Fenris was pacing on the other side. His eyes were glistening with unshed tears and his hair a mess as he ran his gauntlet clad hands through it. “You said that to me once. You don’t know it, but you did and it killed me. I could only think of one way to prove to you-”

    “Fenris,” Anders grabbed at his hand, ignoring the sharp point that cut into his palm. He couldn’t watch again. He couldn’t bear to see Fenris bow at his feet like a trained slave. “I am sorry I asked that. But I needed you to stop for a moment and not run into danger like that. I do not regret stopping you at all costs, but I do regret how it was done. I am sorry.”

    Fenris’s shoulders were rising and falling heavily with pent up anger and stress. Anders wished desperately that he could take it away from him, as he was the main cause lately. He had done nothing but fight Fenris since he woke up in this very room without his memories. Fenris had been gracious and Anders had been cruel. He’ll never feel as if he’s atoned for that. He finally looked up at Anders with hesitation.

    “Do you remember?” He whispered the words so quietly Anders almost didn’t catch them. He shook his head sadly.

    “Justice showed me. I asked him like you said. I’m sorry I accused you, and I’m sorry I used that against you just now. That night you did what you felt was necessary to protect me. So I did the same to protect you.” 

    Fenris looked away, hiding his face. He pulled his hand free and stepped away to draw a deep breath and grip at his hair. Anders wondered for a moment if he’d cause Fenris to bald young at this rate. “The Hanged Man isn’t safe for you anymore. If Danarius is here, his spies would have seen you enter the mansion. If not, they will see you leave it.”

    Anders hadn’t thought about that, but he suspected Fenris was correct. “Tonight, maybe. But tomorrow, we’ll have taken care of him and you will be free to live whatever life you choose. No more fear.”

    Fenris turned back at Anders with lines of pain and longing on his face. He didn’t need to say it, Anders could read what he wanted to say. The life he wanted to live was with him. He swallowed the lump in his throat and felt his feet moving on their own. He reached out to Fenris’s face carefully and brushed his fingertips along his cheek. The elf closed his eyes and savored the touch greedily, but didn’t push for more. Anders’s heart went out to this man, who had done more for him than he presently knew. In this moment, he could almost feel that sense of love he felt for him in the memory Justice had shown him. He felt himself being pulled by some unknown force and he leaned in closer. There was some kind of spell entrancing him to meet Fenris’s lips. He was nearly there when a high pitched whine broke the spell and he pulled away. Fenris, who’s eyes had been shut, was unaware of what he just happened. He opened his eyes and looked down at the culprit with a half smile. “He missed you.”

    Oddy meandered around Anders’s legs as if he was quite pleased with himself. For the first time in history that Anders could remember, he hated a cat.

 

    Oddy’s previous sin forgotten, the ball of fur curled up in Anders’s lap while the group planned in the drawing room. He ran his fingers through the vibrating fur while Varric spoke.

    “You need to meet Varania like you had planned. Act as if nothing is wrong. There will probably be guards, as you’ve likely gained a reputation for killing of slavers by now. Isabela and I will be in our usual rooms in the back. We’ll dispatch them discreetly as they pass our doors.”

    “Anders will be chatting with me in the corner. We’ll keep an eye out for Danarius for you, and watch Varania for signs of attack. Merrill will be at the bar.” He leaned over the table, pressing his hands against it while he looked between Fenris and Anders. “We don’t want to spook them. Danarius must show himself or he could be gone without us being the wiser. No matter how much you won’t want to, keep a pleasant conversation going if you can.”

    Fenris growled. “After Danarius is dead, she will be next.”

    Varric shook his head, “You are upset, we get it, Broody. But we don’t know the whole story. Danarius could be forcing her, or-”

    “She’s selling her own brother out to become a Magister’s apprentice. I don’t care for her reasons,” Fenris spat. His outburst irked Oddy, who leaped from Anders’s lap and sauntered away like the king he probably thought he was. 

    Anders chewed on his thoughts while Fenris seethed. Awful as Varania may seem right now, killing her couldn’t be the best option for Fenris. He didn’t voice his concerns, as now wasn’t the time to reason with the bristling elf beside him. He looked at the small group before them and went over the plan in his mind. If everything went perfectly, it could work without much of a problem. But when did things ever work perfectly?

    “We have some time before Fenris is going to meet Varania. We can’t all go in at once, or we’ll draw attention to ourselves. Isabela and Varric, you go to your rooms and wait there. Merrill, you head out in about a half hour. Fenris can go meet his sister and a about fifteen minutes after that Anders and I will follow. Is everyone on the same page?” Hawke’s keep eyes scanned the small gathering with a seriousness Anders rarely saw on his face. He usually only saw the beast of a man like this when his family was concerned. The idea that all of them were that close to him now was touching, but it’s a place Anders didn’t want to be with the man before. The pain of longing was dull and brief, as if Anders felt that loss long ago.

    Technically, you have, he reminded himself. 

    Varric and Isabela walked out after some encouraging words to Fenris. Merrill followed after, getting herself ready for potential battle at her home. Hawke left shortly after. That left Anders and Fenris alone, as Oddy had chosen a different room to occupy. 

    “This will be it, Fenris,” Anders said without looking at him. “You’ll officially be free after this. How does it feel?”

    Fenris snorted, “Nauseating. A million and a half things could go wrong with this plan. Varania could use some blood magic on me that would render me helpless. Danarius could have sent spies that know of our plan. Merrill could say the wrong thing and tip the slavers off. It feels flimsy and wrong!” He stood as he spoke and punched his gleaming fist into the table. The wood was thick, and sturdy, but it left an impressive crack and a splintered dent. Fenris’s shoulders heaved with pent up rage. His teeth were clenched so tightly that the muscle in his jaw was quivering. 

Anders let out a soft sigh and stood, placing a hand on Fenris’s shoulder. “Please, try to calm down. The plan will work. And if it doesn’t, we can play it by ear. Whatever happens, we won’t let Danarius take you, Fenris. That bastard will pay for everything he did to you before escaped him.” To emphasize his point, Anders traced a line of lyrium on Fenris’s neck. The elf shivered and trapped his hand with his own, searching his eyes. Whatever he was looking for, he seemed to find it, as his expression softened a little. 

“If this goes horribly wrong, I would only regret one thing.”

“And what would that be?” He watched as Fenris lowered Anders’s left hand slowly to chest-level. With his free hand he reached into a hidden pocket on the inside of his breastplate. Whatever was inside, was hidden in Fenris’s closed fist. He pressed what felt like a tiny cloth bag into Anders’s hand that contained something solid and round inside.

“Hold onto this. And if I die, or I’m captured, I need you to look inside of it. Please, humor me, Anders. Regardless of what happens tonight, you need to know one thing: I have loved you for nearly two years now, and none of that has changed.”

Anders’s hand clenched around the object as his heart mimicked the motion. He wanted to argue, to return it to Fenris and cry out that Fenris doesn’t need this security, that everything will be fine and he can give it to him after all of this. But the pleading, raw vulnerability in his eyes froze the words in Anders’s throat. He swallowed and nodded numbly. He placed the bag in his inner coat pocket. His eyes never left Fenris’s face. He felt such a heat in that moment. His body yearned to grab the elf by the collar and tear the armor from his body. He drew a deep, steadying breath in an attempt to steady his spinning mind, but it did him little good. He, himself, had a request for Fenris.

“You lost your memories before the ritual, but you got them back.”

Fenris’s tension never left his body, so he stood like a wooden statue with weary eyes. “Yes.”

“I would give anything, in this moment, to get mine back. I…” His stomach twisted in knots that refused to loosen. He licked his dry lips before he could find the nerve to finally speak. “Take me, Fenris. I need to remember us before we risk everything tonight.”

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, some NSFW and dubcon, but it is an unintentional dubcon, which will make sense in the chapter

    It took Fenris longer than Anders was comfortable with to answer. He held Anders’s gaze the whole time with eyes wide, like a frightened animal. Anders had considered taking it back multiple times, but he held his ground. A cold sweat was beginning to break at the back of his neck, and his hands were beginning to shake. He had never thought he’d proposition Fenris, of all people, into bed. But he also never thought he’d wake up to find he’d been in love with him for years with with a decent home, a cat and and a more functionable clinic. Things change.

    Eventually, Fenris swallowed and slowly shook his head. “I can’t,” he whispered.

    Anders’s heart fell.

    Fenris realized his wording quickly and hurried to correct it. “I promised you I wouldn’t do this, Anders. You don’t remember, but it is a promise I vowed never to break.”

Anders couldn’t fight the mocking laugh that forced its way past his lips, “You promised never to sleep with me? We were together!” Anders noted the flash of pain in Fenris’s eyes and sighed, “Are together.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Fenris checked the window to note the lighting outside. He must have decided they had enough time, as he motioned Anders to sit. Sitting was the last thing he wanted to do, as his body was on fire with nerves and agitation. He tried to reign himself in and will the blood to start flowing up again as he took the indicated seat. 

“I’m listening,” he said through his teeth.

“We didn’t start off where we are now, I’m afraid. We began our relationship with a bit of passion and a lot of anger.”

_Fenris marched through his basement to the secret entrance to Darktown with a near-empty bottle of wine clutched in his right hand. With a very strong buzz in his blood and a spinning mind filled with rage and pain, he stormed through Darktown in the dead of night. His brands glowed softly and gave away his trudging steps to any refugee or thief in the area. He wore none of his armor, but he wasn’t worried. He could handle himself without armor or a blade just fine in the adrenaline-filled state he was in. He had been pacing and drinking, pacing and drinking, over and over in the mansion hallway until he finally worked the nerve to come down here. The closer he came to the clinic, the more his blood ran hot and pooled lower. He could not kill Anders for fear of Hawke’s rage, but he could dominate him and show himself that he could tower over any mage._

_He slammed his fist against the closed and locked door thrice. He stared impatiently at his toes while he listened to the movement and shuffling of feet within. He was nearly about to abuse the door a second time when it finally opened, and the face of a rather agitated Anders peeked through._

_“Fenris? What in the Maker’s name are you doing here at this hour?” His eyes glanced over him, settling for a microsecond on his very present erection. “You don’t look hurt, and I don’t think I can help you with that problem. Call on Isabela. I’m out for the night.” He made to close the door, but Fenris held it open. Anders huffed. “What do you want you insufferable elf?”_

_“You,” he sneered. His green eyes raked along Anders’s body, which was barely visible beneath the baggy sleeping shirt and ratty trousers he wore. “We despise each other and what we stand for. I propose we finally hash it out in a way Hawke wouldn’t disapprove of.”_

_Anders flinched at the mention of Hawke’s name, but Fenris ignored it. They had separated only a week ago, and Anders was clearly hurting. All the more reason to take his anger out on someone who could make him scream with pleasure and pain. “You’re clearly drunk. Come back when you’re sober so I can laugh at you properly. We’re done here.”_

_Fenris lit his brands and passed through the door as Anders shut it. Now both of them were inside the empty clinic together. Anders scoffed with outrage and crossed his arms over his chest. “You do not expect me to bend over for you because you hate me.”_

_“No,” Fenris purred, dropping his empty bottle to roll away on the floor. He walked slowly like a cat about to pounce a terrified mouse and leaned in close to Anders’s ear. He may have drunk an entire bottle of Aggrevio, but he was quite sober. “I want you to fight back,” he whispered, trailing his fingertips along Anders’s shoulder. The blonde man shivered, “I want you to lay your hatred for me all out on the table. Show it to me and I shall show you mine. We will not attack each other but there will be a battle. There will be wounds. I want to slowly tear you apart as you do the same to me.”_

_A soft gasp escaped Anders’s lips as Fenris’s hand lowered into the waistband of his trousers. He found a half hard cock there and smiled. He wrapped his fingered around it just a little too tightly and ran his teeth along Anders’s neck. “Last chance.”_

_Anders whined softly. Fenris learned much too late that it wasn’t in pleasure, but a kind of pain he didn’t realize he was causing. “Please,” he hadn’t been begging Fenris to continue the way he’d thought. Fenris gripped Anders by the collar of his shirt and spun him around to shove him roughly against the door and claimed his lips in a heated kiss that was more teeth than lips. His hand continued to work on Anders’s hard, heated flesh while his other dragged nails up his chest, leaving obvious red lines. Anders cried out and Fenris’s tongue dove inside to assert dominance in every form. He wished Anders to come undone._

_He abandoned Anders’s lips and began to abuse his earlobe. Soft whimpers and moans dragged out of Anders’s throat as his teeth pulled and dragged along his ear and neck. He left marks Anders would heal upon sight, but the fact that he was littering his body with small battle wounds sent spikes of pleasure throughout his body. Anders’s hands grasped at Fenris’s shoulders tightly, pushing and pulling like his body was fighting what it wanted. Fenris stroked the mage nearly to completion when he pulled away._

_“Your trousers. Remove them,” he growled._

_Anders’s thumbs hooked into the waist and slipped them off, “Is that an order,” he asked hoarsely. His whole body was flushed bright red. His neck and face shone with a layer of sweat and he looked at Fenris through lidded eyes. He had no idea what his words meant at the time. He had assumed Anders was goating him into a fantasy of his. A fantasy Fenris had been more than happy to oblige._

_“I command you to remove them now, or face the consequences.”_

_The instant they were no longer in his way, Fenris held one knee up at the waist for Anders to hook around him. He made a show of slicking his fingers up while maintaining eye contact with the mage, confusing the tears in the corners of his eyes for sweat, and inserted them slowly into the mage. His witts returned to him here. He didn’t wish to damage the mage beyond the usual love wounds. He slowly eased one finger in, allowed Anders to adjust, then another. He spread his fingers apart slowly and pumped them into him a few times before he deemed the mage ready. He had closed his eyes now, and his head was leaned back against the door. Fenris positioned himself at his entrance and waited a moment. “I command you to look at me.” The thrill of ordering a mage to do his bidding was thrilling and arousing. Anders’s eyes snapped open and met his. There was pleading there. Fenris had assumed it was begging him to continue. He slid in slowly the first thrust, so as to prepare Anders for his size. He picked up the pace quickly though, and gripped the hair at the base of Anders’s skull tightly to force him to hold his gaze. He nipped at his neck, leaving marks all along it. His thrusts were violent and quick. His hips snapped to the point of leaving bruises on both of them. Anders’s voice was a mixture of moans and cries. When they both came, it was simultaneously. It was at this moment that Fenris heard the pain in Anders’s voice as he cried out his release._

_He lowered him, gently scanning his body for injuries that were worse than he’d thought. Seeing none, he glanced down at himself. There was no blood on him from internal damage. He looked back at Anders, who quickly moved out of the way and slid against the wall into a tight ball. He wrapped his arms tightly around his legs and tucked his head in his arms. Fenris lifted his leggings up and watched the man. The high of his release felt as if ice cold water had been dumped on him. His system was shocked. He was torn. He couldn’t bring himself to go to the man, but he couldn’t leave him this way either. Anders finally spoke, softly, but loud enough for Fenris to hear._

_“Leave.”_

_Fenris’s chest felt ice cold and his stomach was threatening to lose its contents. What had he done?_

_Anders looked up, seeing the elf still standing there, he leapt to his feet. “You’ve won, Fenris! You hurt me more than anyone could! What more could you want from me?”_

_Fenris noted the shakiness in his voice, the tears that were finally showing, and the wild eyes of the man before him. He had meant to work their anger out in a way that would sate them both. This, this was not what he wanted._

_He picked up the discarded clothing from the floor and offered it to Anders. It was a weak peace offering, but it was all he could think of in the moment. He realized what Anders was now. He was a man: as wounded and hurting as himself. He needed to make this right. Anders took the trousers and motioned for the door. His composure was clearly faltering. He was trembling and his voice was thick. Fenris obliged and left the room. He vowed to do something to fix this mistake, whatever he needed to do._

“It wasn’t until nearly a month later that I righted my mistake. I came by your clinic regularly with lyrium and healing potions and bandages. You were angry at first, but I couldn’t let it go.” Fenris continued.

_“You feel guilty, I get it. But you really don’t need to do this for me, Fenris. I’m a grown- up mage now. I can take care of myself,” he snapped at the elf after the last patient had gone. “You wanted me to break and I broke. I honestly don’t understand why you’re still here!”_

_Fenris’s voice was tight and choked up. He swallowed a couple of times and gestured helplessly. Eventually, he said, “I did not want that. Whatever I did to you was wrong, and I am shocked your Demon didn’t attack me for the injustice it was.”_

_“Well,” Anders folded his arms, “Lucky for you, he gets complacent when around so much lyrium. We’re not going to hunt you in your sleep if that’s what you’re worried about. Just leave it be. I’ve dealt with it many times before.”_

_Fenris bristled. He realized others had hurt Anders the way he had, but the word many made him sick. “How many?”_

_“What’s it to-”_

_“How many, Anders?”_

_Anders sighed and pulled at his hair tie with clear agitation. He ran his fingers through it before putting it back up again. “Weekly when I was in solitary confinement. The Templars knew I would beg for any kind of human interaction and they exploited it”_

_Fenris was finding it quite difficult to hold his rage. He could kill the next Templar he saw in that moment. “I did not wish to harm your mind, Anders. I know how hard it must be to believe, but it’s true.”_

_Anders chuckled, “I really don’t believe you, but I told you to leave it. I’ve survived this long, I’ll survive again.”_

_Fenris saw red. He strode up to Anders until their faces were inches apart. His hands were balled into fists at his sides and he seethed. Anders almost looked afraid, but he didn’t back down. “I swear to you, Anders, unless you truly desire me, I won’t lay a hand on you again. I won’t hurt you, and I will make this right. No one, mage or not, deserves such pain.”_

_At first, Anders didn’t seem to know what to say. Eventually, he nodded. “Thanks, Fenris. You know, if we stopped seeing each other as “mage” and “mage hating escaped slave”, we could be friends. Or at least civil companions.”_

_A snort of a laugh rushed from Fenris’s nose. “Perhaps.” He placed an awkward hand on Anders’s arm and left the clinic._

Anders sat quietly while Fenris talked, digesting the whole thing. That explained why Fenris was so hurt by Anders’s suggestion of him commanding him to do anything. He shuddered at the idea of a man he knew hated him so much doing what Fenris suggested. He must have been frightened and sickened by it. He was actually a little grateful not to have remembered, at least, that. “I see. But Fenris, you’re missing the point. I’m asking you to do this. You’re not forcing anything. It’s not the same.”

Fenris stood, as the hour was growing late, “You asked me out of desperation and not desire for me. It is no different. As long as I live, I will never take you under any other circumstances. I would rather die.”

And with the finality of his words, Fenris led the way to Lowtown with his large blade resting on his back. Anders didn’t know quite what to say. He should have told Fenris that he did desire him. But he simply couldn’t admit it. He may not be feeling the love that they shared, but he knew one thing: he wanted Fenris. He wanted to feel what they had. He wanted to remember.

No, he needed it!

    

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for bearing with the decrease in uploading frequency. New job and a lot going on but I'm making sure to keep this story going! Thanks for the love!

Hawke stood leaning against the wall of the tavern casually observing his fingers. They stood off in a corner where Hawke could see Fenris and Varania in what would look to others like a deep discussion. Anders caught a glance at the woman who was Fenris’s blood. He was surprised, to say the least. Other than the obvious fact that both of them were elves, she didn’t look a thing like him. She walked rigidly, with her eyes downcast, as she picked the table in the center of the room. Hawke quietly commented on the fact that she seemed at least remorseful about her actions. Anders growled that it didn’t matter. “You seem a bit shaken.”

“Do I?” Anders said idly while sipping on a swill that the Hanged Man considered its finest ale, “I suppose there’s a lot going on.”

“There is that, but it feels like there’s something else going on. Did you two talk?” Hawke’s eyes were bright with hopeful curiosity. Anders chewed on his bottom lip and pondered how much Hawke might know. He doubted he would have told the other mage about his insecurities and how Fenris had discovered them. But he was their best friend. 

Anders decided to play it safe, “He told me about how our relationship began.”

Hawke flinched, and Anders cursed at himself inwardly. Of course he knew, “Oh, Maker. He explained that he didn’t mean to hurt you, right? Despite how long ago that was, he still beats himself up about it. Even then it really hurt him that he did that to you.”

Anders arched an eyebrow and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. He knew Hawke was watching behind him, but he was itching to turn around and look, “Which one of us told you?”

“He did,” Hawke shrugged and reached for his staff. He propped the end against the wall and produced a clean rag from the inside of his coat to polish the weapon. He was almost convincing that he was casually cleaning his staff, but Anders knew he was getting ready. He would have done the same, but it would have looked suspicious. “He came to my house that night with a bottle and bloodshot eyes. He said he did something awful and it took nearly an hour to pry out of him just what he did. He felt like a monster. I finally convinced him to make it up to you and prove that he didn’t mean to force himself on you. I visited you a couple times to check on you. You didn’t seem any worse off than you were before. You looked happier, in fact. As horrible as it was that it happened, I often wonder if it was the best thing to happen to you two in the long run.”

Anders fought the urge to snort in disgust and settled for staring at Hawke with shock in his eyes. “I’m rather appalled, Hawke. Did you really just imply something good coming out of a nonconsensual encounter?” His fingers twitched with a desire to ball into a fist. Nothing, not even a misunderstanding, could justify such an action. Hawke may not understand personally what something like that could do to a person, but he couldn’t possibly believe his words.

Hawke slipped the cloth back into its placed and held a hand up in defense, “Of course not, Anders. I mean the part where he was making up for it, after. It gave him a reason to get to know you and see you as a man instead of just a mage. And you could see him as a person yourself. Don’t get me wrong, it was a messed up situation. But I honestly don’t see that as the beginning of your relationship.”

Anders’s shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch and his back relaxed a little. “What  _ do _ you consider the beginning of our relationship then?”

Hawke’s eyes changed in that moment. They hardened and the grip on his staff tightened. “Trouble.”

Anders slipped the staff from his back with practiced ease and spun around. Fenris was standing with strained muscles and his brands were glowing so bright it was almost painful to look at him directly. Varania stood on the opposite side of the table with her hands held up and her eyes wide. Behind her, at the top of the steps, were two slaver guards on either side of an elderly man with cold eyes and a smile that could frighten a grown man. He slowly descended the steps with a shaking head as if he were scolding a troubling child.

“Danarius!” Anders hissed between his teeth. 

“Why didn’t Isabela and Varric stop him?” Hawke growled from beside him. They held their staffs out defensively and hurried to Fenris’s side. Merrill was already there, holding hers ready. The blade was dangerously close to her hand. Hawke rested a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. Anders was glad, as this wasn’t the time nor place to attempt blood magic. The Tevinter Magister would certainly outmatch her ability to summon demons. Fenris’s body shook with rage and every muscle Anders could see was straining. His eyes were slits and his nose wrinkled in a snarl.

“Now, now, pet. There is no need for more violence. However you managed to take down my other guards without Varania here noticing is beyond me, but we’ll play with that particular trick when we get home.”

Anders felt Hawke’s relief. The creep didn’t get to Isabela and Varric then. 

Danarius’s eyes swept from Anders to Merrill and his smile widened slightly, “I see you’ve acquired new masters. What a loyal Little Wolf, isn’t he? I’ll be taking him back now, as he is my property. But I am willing to offer you a reward should you be reasonable and deliver him to me without a fuss.” He reached his hand out from where he stood on the steps: an invitation as warm as his eyes. The guards on either side of him stood ready for an attack. Varania had fled the room and up the stairs. Danarius barely moved out of the way enough to let her pass. His eyes never left Fenris.

“He is not your property! And he has no master!” Hawke called out. Anders noticed a movement from the corner of his eye and one of the guards was immediately singed. Unfortunately, the attack was far from fatal.

“Then I will retrieve him from your corpse,” Danarius’s stance changed gracefully from one of a peaceful solution to violent force within a blink. Anders’s magic rose up as soon as his did and a barrier of protection went around Fenris immediately. Danarius’s attack wasn’t on the elf, however. Lightning crackled through the room and the smell of burnt wood filled the air as it hit Anders square in the chest. The blow knocked him back into a table that snapped in half. He felt his ribs break and bruises form. Pain radiated from his back and left side and he found he couldn’t stand back up.

“Anders!” Fenris cried. 

“Focus, Fenris! He’ll be fine!” Hawke shot a large boulder in Danarius’s direction, but the man side-stepped out of the way so that the attack hit his guard instead. The second was ready to rush when a blade protruded from his chest from behind. When he slid off of the weapon, Isabela could be seen standing quite proud of herself. Danarius immediately surrounded himself with a ward and descended the steps to attack himself. The chilling smile was replaced with fiery determination and rage as he sent another bolt of lightning their way. Anders’s hand was holding his wound as healing magic seeped into his skin. He tried to rush the process, but broken bones liked to take their time healing. At the rate he was working the fight would be over by the time he was fit to help. Hawke dodged the attack and sent a shard of ice at Danarius. Merrill rushed at the second guard and stabbed the blade end of her staff into his gut. As she yanked it out, three more men descended from the steps.

“I don’t think so! Bianca doesn’t take too well to rejections, boys!” Varric cried from the top of the stairs. One man went down as a bolt went through his temple. Another was suddenly without his spine as Fenris appeared behind him. The final was taken out by Hawke. Danarius’s ward was beginning to wane, and Anders’s wound was healed enough to push through the pain and fight. It would do him more damage in the long run, but he couldn’t sit by. He forced himself up and readied the most powerful fireball he could conjure. He held his hand back and aimed. He was ready to launch when a figure appeared in the corner of his vision: a red-headed elf was hurtling directly in Fenris’s direction. 

Anders moved without thinking and aimed at Varania before she could reach him. There was a look of shock before she was devoid of a face and of her torso. She dropped down behind an unsuspecting Fenris who stalked directly at Danarius. His brands were lit more brightly than Anders had ever seen them. He walked right through the wards as they finally blinked out and he reached into the man’s chest. A gutteral choking sound escaped his lips as Fenris lifted him by the inside of his chest. His staff clattered to the ground and he hung limp and pathetic. Fenris brought him down so that he could look directly into the man’s frightened eyes and spoke with a cold, dark voice.

“You are no longer my  _ master _ !” 

His arm tensed and Danarius dropped to the floor. 

The tavern was silent for a long moment. Fenris’s shoulders shook and his chest heaved as he looked down at the mess that lay at his feet. Isabela touched Hawke’s hand in comfort. Varric closed up Bianca and attached her to the harness on his back before patting Fenris’s arm as he made his way back up the stairs. Fenris gave no indication that he had even noticed. Merrill stood with her bright eyes and watched the scene before her as she fumbled with her fingers. No one knew what to say.

Anders limped to Fenris’s side and deliberately stepped on the charred corpse of Varania on his way. His stomach knotted at the sight, but she deserved her death. To turn on her brother so deliberately and without hesitation was despicable beyond measure. Danarius’s body lay mangled and covered in his own blood. The remnants of his heart was tattered at his side. Anders wasn’t lost on the irony of the image. 

“I had hoped I would find some sense of belonging,” Fenris’s voice rumbled deeply and painfully. His hair covered his eyes. He didn’t look up as he spoke. “ _ Magic _ ,” he spat the word, “has corrupted that too, it would seem. I am alone.”

Anders swallowed and tried to ignore the stabbing pain that Fenris’s words caused him. He reached his hand out to Fenris in comfort, but the elf spun around like a feral dog and shoved it away. The blow was lighter than a full attack, but it jarred at Anders’s existing injury and he couldn’t help the wince in pain as his hand flew to the point of pain. If Fenris noticed, he didn’t care. “Mages are broken every aspect of my life! My so-called family clearly left me for it, my memories were stolen because of it, and I lost you thanks to it! I am doomed to live a cursed existence because of magic, and it makes me sick!”

“Fenris!” Anders growled the word more than he had intended to. His words were filtered through the pain his body was putting him through, “you haven’t lost me! I’m making my way back to you and fighting like hell to do so!” He straightened up as much as he could and limped back to Fenris, who seemed to finally take note of his pain, as there was concern mixed with the pain and rage. Anders touched the elf’s face lightly and breathed through the searing of his lungs. “Whatever way I can, I  _ will _ come back to you, Fenris. Don’t let that bastard win. He’s dead, and you are free. That  _ woman _ ,” he pointed in the general direction of her corpse with disgust laced through his words, “is not your family. Your family is everyone here who risked their necks to keep you safe today. You’re not alone!”

Fenris’s eyes softened to a deep sadness that Anders could feel to his core. He glanced around the room and looked everyone who was there in the eye. Hawke and Isabela both sent him sad, but heartfelt smiles. Merrill was still playing with her fingers, but shot him an encouraging grin. Varric wasn’t present in the room, but Fenris looked towards the stairs in his direction. He finally looked back at Anders and a small smile touched his lips. He traced Anders’s cheek with his gauntleted hands. The small intimacy of the touch left Anders’s cheek tingling with fire. “Heal yourself, Anders. Then let us go home.”

Anders’s eyes stung as tears threatened to fall. He smiled back at the elf and flooded healing magic to his injury. The bones were mostly mended by now, so the rest of the damage reverted rather quickly. He located his staff and snatched it up before gesturing for Fenris to lead the way. Hawke shot him a quick nod and a smile before walking with Isabela back to her room. They left the Hanged Man to its devices and entered the darkness of Lowtown at night. 

They walked in silence. Fenris’s fingers gently brushed Anders’s at times, but there was no other contact between them. They kept an eye out for bandits or thugs, but there weren’t any to be seen, which was a miracle if Anders had ever seen one. A tension settled over him that he couldn’t place, however, and it only coiled tighter the closer they came to the mansion. Somehow, deep down, he knew what was going to happen once they entered.

The large door loomed over him as he slipped inside and into the dark walls. It still felt strange to not see rotting corpses, mushrooms, and broken objects scattered throughout the rather clean house. He wondered if this was an establishment that had taken place because of him, or if Fenris had simply gotten tired of the smell.

Fenris began to shed his armor slowly and deliberately, and Anders shrugged off his coat. He hung his staff on the weapon rack beside Fenris’s blood-stained sword and hung his coat on the hanger beside it. Fenris neatly stacked his armor on the floor in the corner of the entryway and finally turned to face Anders fully. He seemed so vulnerable in that moment. His eyes were open, but frightened. He wore only his tunic and leggings, and his shoulders were slightly hunched forward. Anders offered him a shaky smile in an attempt to comfort him, but he felt just as nerve-wracked if he was being honest with himself. He stepped closer to Fenris and caressed his smooth cheek. He lightly gripped Fenris’s arm with his free hand and leaned in to finally taste the life he had forgotten. When their lips did meet, he felt a deep warmth within his chest that was subtle, but very present. It wasn’t like the fire of excitement he’d felt with Karl, or the electric passion he had known with Hawke. Somehow, this feeling was more intimate. It was deeper with Fenris.

Soft fingertips gently curled through Anders’s hair and ran along his back as Fenris deepened their kiss. Anders shivered. His hands roamed Fenris’s body more greedily and the kiss shifted from soft and loving to passionate and rough. Fenris was a starving man and Anders was his favored meal. They managed to find some sort of sofa downstairs to tumble over while they stripped each other of any pesky clothing. Anders had never been self conscious of his body, nor did he worry about pleasing his partner in bed. This time, however, it felt different. This wasn’t just anyone he was with, it was a man who had given his heart to him without reservations. It was a man who clearly loved him deeply even though Anders didn’t remember any of it. He was with a man who was both bruising with his grip and teeth, and yet painfully gently and tender with him.

Anders looked away while Fenris’s eyes roamed his now very bare body. He felt fingertips against his cheek that guided him back to look at his lover, who’s eyes were knowing. “I’ve told you this countless times. You are beautiful, Anders.” He pressed his lips to a scar Anders had gotten when fighting a hurlock with the Warden Commander. The contact sent a shiver from his collarbone straight to his already hardened length. “I love every inch of your body, as much as I love you,” his voice was silk as he whispered words Anders couldn’t have fathomed coming from his mouth before. Soft whimpers and moans dragged from Anders’s throat as Fenris trailed kisses down his chest and stomach, before finally tracing his pulsing flesh with his tongue. Hot pleasure surged up Anders’s spine from where Fenris touched him and his toes curled. Fenris’s finger gently slid inside him while his mouth forced Anders’s fingers to dig into the fabric beneath him. After properly preparing Anders, Fenris’s mouth left him. Anders groaned at the loss of contact, but it was quickly silenced when he felt Fenris entering him. The elf planted soft kisses along his cheeks, neck and forehead while he moved within him. Anders had had many trysts throughout his life. He’d had sex with men and women alike, but this, this was clearly what it felt like to make love.

When they both found their release, they lay on the sofa tangled up in each other’s arms and legs. Fenris’s face nuzzled in Anders’s neck and his palm was pressed over his heart. Anders lazily traced his fingertips along Fenris’s spine. There was a pleasant moment in the afterglow of their lovemaking, but it was tarnished by the fact that his memories still eluded him. He frowned.

“You are thinking rather loudly,” Fenris rumbled against his chest. “Allow yourself some rest. Sleep will do us both some good.”

He didn’t say it, but Anders could hear the meaning behind his words: his memories had come back while he was sleeping. Eventually, the soft breathing of his companion lulled him into the Fade. He stepped through into the tavern that Justice seemed to reside in. The Spirit stood in the center with a rod-straight body and a grim expression. Anders’s pleasant emotions he’d brought into the Fade slipped as Justice spoke.

“Your memories are lost to you, Anders. I have found no trace of them here.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I fixed the chapter weirdness, if I haven't, please do let me know. I'm sorry this chapter took so long, busy schedule! I should get something more regulated soon, fingers crossed!

Anders swallowed slowly as he looked at the ghostly, rotted corpse that stood in the center of the green-hazed tavern. Justice was rarely one to display emotion openly, but he stood there with a tension in his body that suggested he’d been waiting for Anders to appear all day. He walked closer to the Spirit and took a seat in the nearest chair with a numbness that wasn’t due to the Fade. Justice sat across from him and pressed his palms into the table. He leaned forward, his milky, dead eyes bore into Anders, who drew a deep breath of the thick, Fade air. He tried to swallow his disappointment, but he knew it was a long shot for his memories to return the same way Fenris’s had. “I see.”

“You do not,” Justice said quickly, “You place a hope in the past that has no control over you. You may have no memories of your life as it is, but there are more to be had. Leave this tavern. Move forward,” Justice’s voice was almost shaking with desperation. 

Anders frowned.

“Leave the tavern? This tavern? Why? What does this have to do with my memories?”

Justice leaned back slowly, “It does not. But you have lived in the past for as long as we have been comrades. I did not understand the damage this could cause before. I even encouraged it. I know now what pain you caused yourself by doing so. I may dwell here, Anders, but you must leave. There is nothing for you here any longer.”

Anders’s brows knit together and his palms came down into the table so hard it would have sent piercing pain up his arms were he in the physical world.

“I can’t, Justice! This tavern is where you live! I’m not abandoning you! I didn’t abandon you when Christoff’s body disintegrated and I’m not abandoning you now!” Where was this coming from all of a sudden? The last time he was here Justice had claimed he wasn’t ready! “What has you rushing to be rid of me? What happened, Justice?”

Before Justice could answer, the walls of the tavern shook and swayed. Justice shook his head as he faded away.

Anders’s eyes opened slowly as consciousness returned to him. A warm body pressed against his chest, lightly purring. Thin fingers lightly traced along his chest as if he were content and relaxed. Anders could feel the tension in his body, however. He knew Fenris was dying to ask. A pang hit his chest and he wrapped his arms around the elf. “I’m sorry,” he whispered in his companion’s ear. 

Fenris didn’t need to ask. He pressed his lips to Anders’s chest in response, “Do not apologize. It was worth a try, but we both knew it wasn’t a certain plan. We’ll find another way to-”

“I can’t.” Anders spoke with a curt monotone. He held up a shield around himself to guard against the pain of what Justice had told him. “Justice told me my memories are gone. I can’t get them back, Fenris.”

Fenris’s tension returned. The elf was silent for a long time before he hesitantly lifted himself from Anders’s body. He sat on the sofa at Anders’s feet with hunched shoulders and a defeated posture. His hair hid his face, but Anders knew there was pain there. He sat up to sit beside him and wrapped his arms around himself. He felt sick, like he’d betrayed someone close to him. He closed his eyes and exhaled harshly through his nose. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I tried, Fenris. I… I wanted that life. I wanted what we had in the past more than anything. I can see how much you love me and I-” Anders choked on the fire in his throat. He blinked back against the sting in his eyes and his fingers dug into his arms, “I want it back, Fenris.”

“Anders,” Fenris sighed. There was an exhaustion and frustration in his voice. He placed his hand on Anders’s shoulder and leaned in closer to rest his head on it instead. His soft hair tickled at Anders’s neck. “You never lost it. If your memories are lost to you, then so be it. We shall create new memories to cherish. I’m not giving up so easily.”

Anders’s heart squeezed painfully in his chest and he wrapped his arm around Fenris. He leaned his head on the elf’s and closed his eyes against the pain. His heart felt like it had been torn to bloody shreds and hastily stitched back together. Though on the mend, it would certainly not heal the same. What if his love for Fenris didn’t return, or developed completely differently than it was before?

“Anders, look at me,” Fenris spoke softly, yet with an authority that commanded attention. He lifted his head and looked at the elf whose moss colored eyes glared with determination. He held the sides of Anders’s face to prevent him from looking away, “I love you. I will always love you. Whatever happens. I have hope we will find our way back.”

A loud banging on the door interrupted the moment. Anders growled in irritation while the two hastily searched for their clothes. If Hawke was paying them a visit, they had about two seconds before the burly man was going to burst in and demand their attention. Anders was still hopping into his trousers when the man entered the room. Luckily, his shirt was long enough to cover everything important.

“Fasta vass, Hawke! What is it?” Fenris barked.

Hawke chuckled, “Sorry, gentleman, but there’s chaos on the Wounded Coast that requires the attention of all of us. Meet at the usual camp spot by sun down.” He left before either of them could object, but neither were surprised. 

Anders glowered at the door after it had shut. His trousers were still barely half up his legs. He sighed heavily and yanked them into place. “That man hasn’t changed a bit in two years, I swear! Always barging in without notice and expecting us to just drop our lives and run off at a moments notice to do Maker knows what!”

Fenris chuckled at Anders’s grumbling, “It is true, though I imagine this particular task is important, as he is calling on everyone so soon after a fight. We should get going though, our favored camping location will take all day to reach.”

“I wasn’t aware we  _ had _ a “favored camping location”.”

Fenris and Anders were near the door by now, and were donning their fighting gear, “We discovered it a few months ago. It’s a hollow cave at the side of the cliff of the Wounded Coast. It’s difficult to reach without making noise and is only accessible from one direction. It’s easily defendable and the inside of the cave is comfortably flat for sleeping.”

“I see,” Anders said as he buckled his coat. As he patted it down to adjust it, his hand located the pouch Fenris had given him to hold onto, should he perish. Obviously, Fenris hadn’t been harmed by Danarius, but he also hadn’t asked for it back. Anders decided to leave it alone for now as they grabbed their weapons and slipped out the door. 

It was just after sunrise, so there were few people bustling about the markets that the pair passed on their way to the wounded coast. The occasional shopkeeper called their pitch out to them, but most of the shops were only just getting set up. Fenris stopped at a produce stall to buy a couple of apples to eat on the journey, and a butcher stall for some dried meats to eat later. They walked mostly in silence as they left the edges of town and entered the forked, dirt path that turned away from the green woods that lead to Sundermount and entered the rocky coast to their left. Anders tossed the core of his apple over his shoulder and lightly licked the juice that was left off of his fingertips. He caught Fenris glancing at him with a hungry expression and a playful smirk crossed his face. He made a show of licking at his pointer finger more dramatically and a soft growl emitted from Fenris.

“Anders, I swear to you, if you continue to tease me, I will punish you right here on the side of the road.”

Anders laughed, “Promise?”

“Were we not on a schedule…” There was frustration and longing in Fenris’s voice that amused Anders, but he did take pity on him and ceased his teasing. 

“Tell me a story about us,” Anders said after a half hour of comfortable silence. He had surprised Fenris by taking his hand. The elf removed it quickly, but before Anders could be hurt by the gesture for long, Fenris quickly removed his sharp gauntlet and placed his bare hand back into Anders’s, carrying the gauntlet in his other hand.

“Well,” Fenris said softly, furrowing his brows in thought, “There’s the time I asked you to move in.”

Anders smiled in his direction, “I had been meaning to ask about that. In my memories, that mansion wasn’t nearly so… put together.”

Fenris chuckled softly, “Yes, it wasn’t. I knew the chances of you agreeing to live with me would be much greater if I offered you a home and not a hovel.”

“Wait, you’re telling me you cleaned up that place yourself?”

Fenris nodded. “I did.”

Anders let out a low whistle. “I have to say, I’m impressed.”

Fenris rolled his eyes. “Do you wish to hear the story or not?”

“Sorry. I do.”

_ Fenris’s hands shook as he knocked lightly on the door to the Clinic. He had just finished the last touches of his plan an hour earlier, and waiting another moment sounded impossible. The second the final crystal grace had been set on the table he left the mansion for Darktown. It was sunset now, so Anders should be finishing up with his last few patients. He was lucky, as the door appeared to be shut. Anders only closed the Clinic this late when there were no more patients to be seen for the day. He could see him immediately. _

_ The door creaked open, and a very tired Anders peeked his head through. There were smudges of purple under his eyes, and his face was paler than usual. Fenris frowned. He had been working himself into the dirt lately, and needed to care for himself once in a while. Fenris would see to it that he has a meal and some rest tonight. Seeing the elf, Anders offered a weak smile. _

_ “I’m sorry, Fenris, but I’m rather tired tonight. I’m afraid my stamina isn’t at its best. Perhaps you should come back tomorrow.” _

_ The statement cut Fenris to his core. Anders had agreed to be his bed companion. It was enough, initially. It benefited both of them to ease tension at the end of their day. It began as quick tumbles in the sheets after Fenris had made up for his mistake with Anders. Whoever made the visit would leave immediately after. Then Fenris offered to let Anders stay the night one night, and they conversed. That became the regular routine for a while. And then they visited on occasion where they didn’t end up tearing each other’s clothing off. Fenris had come to realize he had feelings for the Mage. But he refused to voice this fact to him without some proof through action. Consequentially, Anders still believed their arrangement to be just that, an arrangement. _

_ “I understand. The mansion is available. It is more comfortable than your current living quarters.” Fenris tried his best not to wrinkle his nose at Anders’s little cot in the corner of his clinic. He hated that the man he’d come to love lived in such conditions. He intended to correct that tonight.  _

_ He smirked, but the look was strained. “Careful, elf. I might just start thinking you enjoy my company, and not just my body.” He winked at him and slipped from the Clinic after quickly retrieving his coat and the key to the door. Fenris bit his tongue against the reply that begged to escape his mouth. He wished to tell Anders that he does, indeed, enjoy his company. But he needed to prove this first. Their start was a rough one and he needed to approach this correctly. The walk to the mansion was an uneventful one, which was lucky given the time of day it was. When they reached the door to the mansion, Fenris’s heart began to pound and a sheen of sweat broke out across his neck. He opened the door with trembling hands. He was certain Anders noticed, but the mage didn’t comment on it. Fenris was grateful for this fact.  _

_ Anders’s eyes widened with shock once he stepped inside. There wasn’t a single corpse or fungus in sight. Fenris had asked Varric for help fixing the structural damage as well. The mansion looked nearly as nice as Bartrand’s before he had been bewitched by the strange idol. There was a strong aroma of stew that Hawke had sent over; freshly made by Oriana. There was a flickering, warm glow from the direction of the dining room. Anders looked at Fenris with clear shock on his face, who said nothing. The elf walked past the bewildered mage and led him to the dining room where a display of stew already prepped in two bowls sat next to each other in front of sturdy chairs. Between them was a bundle of Crystal Grace sitting in a vase that was only chipped at the lip. The fire was warm, but not roaring. The mood of the room was romantic, but not overwhelmingly so. Fenris pasted a look of nonchalance, but on the inside his stomach was churning.  _

_ “Fenris,” Anders breathed as he took it all in. The carpeting had been ripped out by the team Varric had found and replaced by a simple, yet soft, earthen carpeting. The decor was simple, yet homey. All of the rotting and destroyed furniture had been removed. Some was replaced, such as the dining table, a few sofas in the drawing rooms, the furnishings of the main room, and the armor stand and weapon rack that was in the doorway. Fenris had made sure it would hold his greatsword as well as Anders’s staff. He wanted it to feel as much like a home as possible.  _

_ Fenris gestured for Anders to sit, where the food was waiting. He retrieved a basket where Oriana had wrapped a loaf of bread that had been baked that morning, and set it between them. He sat down beside Anders as if this was the most natural thing in the world. Anders sat rigidly and stared at the elf like he’d grown a second head. Fenris cleared his throat and picked at his half of the bread in tense silence. His brain hummed with panic and spun with scenarios where Anders rejected him. He was desperate to speak, but his mouth refused to open. He felt sick. _

_ “Fenris,” Anders said softly, “What is this about? Are you trying to butter me up for something?” His tone was light, but his voice was thick with concern. Fenris wanted to kick himself. Of course Anders would be worried about him. He was probably scanning him for injuries or illness that needed healing, as if this was all a bargain for Anders’s skill. He finally mustered the courage to speak. _

_ “I am aware that you believe our arrangement is meant to be only physical.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at the man beside him. He couldn’t see the rejection or the pity should this plan fail. “However… I have wished for more. I wish to see you when I wake. I’ve thought of little else but you in weeks. I desire you, Anders, for more than your body. I wish for your conversation. I desire your presence. You said it appeared as if I enjoy your company earlier. The truth is, I do. I have done what I can to make this mansion presentable as a home. I can only hope that you can see it as one.” He had wanted to say more, but his throat was closing up. Every moment Anders was silent was another moment that air refused to enter his lungs. His throat was constricting and his chest felt tight. He knew that Anders must think him mad for proposing such a thing. He waited for the verbal attack, the laughter, or Anders to simply stand and walk out. He did not expect a hand on his cheek. _

_ He looked up at the mage whose gentle, calloused hand was bringing his gaze up to meet his own, and his honeyed eyes were warm and kind. They were shining with the threat of tears. “Fenris, are you asking to be with me?” _

_ He could only nod. _

_ Anders looked around the room, as if taking it all in, before returning his gaze to him. “You wish me to live here, with you? A mage?” _

_ Fenris looked straight into his eyes and placed his hand over Anders’s that still held his face. “You are more than a mage. I have come to realize this. I care for you, Anders. I’ve hurt you before, and I will never forgive myself that. But if you could forgive me….” _

_ “Fenris,” Anders’s hand on his cheek pulled him closer until their foreheads were touching, “I have forgiven you long ago! Stop tormenting yourself! If we’re to live together, then you must see past that day.” _

_ Fenris pulled back with a spike of adrenaline and hope. “You mean?” _

_ Anders smiled and pulled Fenris into a quick kiss before responding, “I thought myself a fool to have fallen for you. If you really want me, Fenris, then you’re free to have me. I’ll stay with you.” _

_ A love so strong blossomed in his chest that it was nearly painful. He claimed Anders’s lips a long moment before pulling back. “Eat, then I’ll show you the bedroom. We could both use some sleep.” _

_ Ander laughed, “Oh Fenris, tired or not, I’m going to show you more than sleep in our new bedroom.” _

_ The word  _ our _ rang through his mind as they finished their meal and took each other in their new home. _

Anders couldn’t remove the smile from his face as Fenris told the story. His nervousness was touching and adorable. To know that they began as only bedroom lovers was an interesting fact that really didn’t surprise Anders. Even when he hated the elf, he had  found him unbelievably attractive to look at and would have jumped at the opportunity to join his bed. 

“I wish I could remember the look on your face when I agreed to move in.”

“I imagine it was comical, though I can’t say for sure.” Fenris’s hand untangled from Anders, who tried to quiet his disappointment at the loss of contact, and replaced his gauntlet. “We’re nearly there. We’ll likely be moving by the cover of night, so be prepared to move as soon as everyone arrives.”

Anders nodded. The descent to the entrance of the cave was, indeed, difficult and created a significant amount of noise as loose gravel was shifted under their weight. Even Fenris, who had always managed to move silently even in his bulky armor, could be heard moving around beside him. Once they arrived at the cave entrance, it seemed nearly everyone else was already there, waiting. Only Varric and Hawke remained. They arrived moments after Anders and Fenris did, and Hawke didn’t hesitate to begin business.

“Alright everyone, I have reason to believe there is a large group of intelligent slavers about a mile east of here. Varric has intercepted their messenger. If we don’t take them out tonight, fifty men, women, and children will be taken to Tevinter tonight. We need to move now. We’ll observe their defences when we get there and plan from there. Questions?”

Everyone shook their heads and moved out. Anders walked beside Fenris and brushed his hand against his to comfort him. Even if he didn’t know him as well as he does, Fenris’s tension was almost physically tangible. Whatever they found, they’d take care of it. They’ve dealt with slavers before. 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super shout out to my Beta! Couldn't have done it without you girl! And to all my readers! I love you guys!

“Who in the Maker’s name decided we should  _ split up _ ?” Anders spat through his teeth as his staff hit a slaver in the face. It knocked his head back so far his neck created a sickening crunch and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. Fenris sliced through another behind him. The two stood back-to-back and fought off the ambush as well as they could, but they were running low on stamina, mana and options. The others were at various points of the den, likely in similar situations themselves.

“Aveline’s,” Fenris growled. His brands lit up and he ripped the hearts out of two slavers that charged him. Anders’s aura shield was flickering out from around them. He wouldn’t be able to hold it up much longer and the poorly healed injuries from the fight at the Hanged Man were taking their toll on him. He was slowing down dramatically and the slavers were taking notice. More were attacking him than Fenris, who was worn down but still very much a threat.

“Vishante kaffas!” Fenris spun around, forcing Anders to take on his original assailants, and took on the large group that had intended to go after the mage. The slavers realized his plan after a few attacks and changed tactics. They split up evenly between the two of them and charged at once. Fenris howled a raw cry and his brands flared brighter than they ever had been as he took on his group. However, that left him distracted long enough for Anders to be vulnerable. His barrier dropped and his attackers lunged. 

A lot of things happened at once after that.

A blunt weapon was violently shoved into Anders’s ribs, knocking the wind from his lungs and dropping him immediately. Pain bloomed from his newly broken ribs across his side as the same attacker dropped his weapon over Anders’s back, just to the left of his spine. The back of his ribcage was likely crushed now, and he felt warm liquid trickle down his back. He choked on the agony and blood that rose to his throat. Fenris noticed his trouble and turned his attention to Anders. In his distraction, the slavers clapped him in irons that were decorated with runes to restrain just about anything. His brands dimmed immediately. Fenris’s strength would have kept him upright were he challenging a handful of assailants, however reinforcements had arrived by now. Two gripped his snowy hair in their rough hands while one held a blade to his throat. Two held onto each arm, and another gripped him from behind. In his pain and blurred vision, Anders couldn’t move his body. He desperately tried to heal himself, but the fingers of his aura clutched at air, as if his magic was barely out of reach. A smell made its way to his nose and he realized why. Magebane. The blades of the slavers were coated in magebane. 

An ice cold fear fell to the pit of Anders’s stomach. He pressed his palms against the gravel on the ground. He mind focused against the pain and on helping the struggling elf beside him. The same man with the blunt weapon noticed, and shoved his boot down on Anders’s head. His nose collided with the ground first and a crack could be heard as a new wave of pain slashed across his face. Hot blood poured from his nose and pooled into the dirt where his face was forced into the ground.

“Got us a feisty one!” A slaver laughed. “May have lost our slaves to your friends, but you’re pretty and strong. You’ll fetch a good price. Come on, boys, leave that one. He’s good as dead anyway. He can listen to us having our fun with his friend while he dies.”

Rage clawed its way through Anders’s stomach as the boot on the back of his head let up and the group made their way deeper into the cave. The sounds of rattling chains, Fenris’s Teviner curses and laughter faded as Anders’s consciousness drifted off.

_ I’m sorry, Fenris _ .

 

The smell of stew drifted to Anders as awareness returned to him. A warm hand was laying on his shoulder, and a thick comforter was pulled to his chin. The entire left side of his torso felt stiff and incredibly sore the way an injury feels after a night of healing in bed and a potion in one’s system. He groaned and tried to turn over, but his body screamed at him not to. The hand on his arm moved to his chest to prevent movement. He smiled.

“Fenris.”

“I’m afraid not,” Hawke said. 

Anders’s eyes slowly opened. He was clearly in Hawke’s room, full of reds and warm browns. A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth as he struggled to remember the events that brought him here. He looked at the man sitting beside him, with his worried smile and the tense lines of his face. Slowly, he started to recall the slavers den. The way they split up to confuse the slavers, and how Fenris and himself were ambushed. Panic clutched at his chest and he tried to shoot up again, but again, Hawke prevented him from doing so. His body protested more loudly this time and he grunted.

“Fenris!”

“He’s alright, considering,” Hawke said, offering Anders a cup of water. He declined, as his stomach would have returned it moments after drinking, “he’s beat up pretty badly, and really worried about you. Once you’re feeling up to it, I’ll take you to the mansion. He made me promise to take care of you first.”

Anders shook his head and pulled at his mana with irritation. It wasn’t at its fullest, but he had enough of a reserve to speed the healing process up in his body. “They took him, Hawke. The slavers got him and I didn’t stop it! I need to see him!” His voice was hoarse and he tried to clear it. Hawke silently offered the water again. Anders eyed it wearily before finally taking a hesitant sip to wet his throat. “How long was I out?”

“A couple of days. And you couldn’t have stopped it, Anders. When we found you, you were near death and still crawling your way into the cave like you could stop them in your state. Fenris doesn’t want you blaming yourself.”

“I need to see him.” Anders used a tone that left no room for argument. Between the potion and his healing, Anders could sit up with little trouble. He imagined his left ribs would be a pain for the rest of his life after two major injuries in such a short time, but he'll manage. He’s lived through worse.

Hawke leaned back to assess the mage on his bed as Anders stood up. Seeing nothing seriously amiss with his movement, he shrugged. “Take a lyrium potion before you go. He might need some healing. He refused to be healed by anyone but you. And Anders,” Anders looked over his shoulder while he buckled his coat up, “I’m sorry.” There was a lot said in his eyes that he wasn’t saying with his words. Anders knew what he meant. He turned to face the man and offered a weak smile.

“We all knew the risks, Hawke. We gladly follow you into danger every day. It wasn’t going to go smoothly every time.”

Hawke let out a long sigh and looked down at the carpet beneath his feet. He shook his head and slumped his shoulders, “No, it wasn’t.”

 

The mansion felt darker than usual, though it wasn’t any different than Anders had ever seen it, technically. He hung his staff up and started to shed his coat when he heard a soft thump on the floor. The small bag Fenris had told him to hang onto before the Danarius incident lay on the floor. Anders hung his coat up before stooping down to retrieve it. He held it in his hand and looked at it with sudden nervousness. He could easily tell what was inside based on the feel and weight of it, but his mind froze every time he thought about it. He couldn’t bring himself to imagine the true weight of what was inside this small package. He pocketed it and drew a deep breath. He needed to see to Fenris’s injuries now. He could worry about what was inside later. He strode quickly to the expansive staircase and didn’t slow his steps when he reached the door, lest he panic and stop. He shoved through the door to see a small form curled up on the middle of the bed. He was still wearing his armor. Old blood was crusted on his gauntlets and breastplate. His hair hid his face and his body was drawn like a bowstring. Ander’s heart broke at the sight. He stepped carefully and sat beside Fenris, who didn’t acknowledge his presence. His whole body begged to draw the elf into his chest and hold him, but he didn’t want to overstep any bounds. He needed to handle this delicately.

“When you lost your memories, I had thought I lost you,” he spoke with words so soft that Anders had to strain to hear him. He whispered into his arms with his head still dropped. His shoulders began to shake, “But when I saw you go down… I knew I was wrong. If you had died in there-” His voice dropped to silence and he shuddered. Anders finally allowed himself contact and brushed Fenris’s hair from his face. There were streaks of tears along his cheeks. One of his eyes was swollen nearly shut and the right side of his face was colored in yellow, red, and deep purple from bruising. Anders felt sick, and couldn’t imagine what Fenris’s body might look like.

“You didn’t lose me, Fenris. Not when I lost my memories, and not in that cave. Let me heal you, please.” He gently stroked Fenris’s hair like he was a frightened animal that would bolt at the slightest movement, but he never looked from his green eyes. Fenris finally looked straight at him and let out a single sob before drawing Anders in for a single, chaste kiss. 

“I love you, Anders,” his voice was thick with emotion, “I won’t let you get hurt like that again!”

“Hey,” Anders pulled away with a humorless laugh, “I’m a grown up mage, now. I can get myself into trouble without your help. We’re here to support each other, but that doesn’t make you my personal bodyguard.” He took Fenris’s hand and started to undo the straps that held his gauntlet together. “Let’s get you out of this and in a bath. It’ll do you some good.” Once he had removed the metal, he let his mana run through Fenris’s fingertips up his body. Anders could see the chafing and bruising where chains had been wrapped around his wrists that were slowly fading away. “I couldn’t save you either, Fenris. I have to live with that. Let’s just agree not to punish ourselves and move forward.” He removed the other gauntlet and continued to heal Fenris as he removed his armor and clothes. The elf was silent throughout the process, not commenting as Anders discovered more injuries from the attack. There were bruises, cracked bones, and burns littering his body. His neck was especially swollen, an obvious sign of choking. Anders forced the rage at the attackers down as he tended to Fenris. After he was healed, Fenris led Anders to the bath that was installed with Dwarven plumming and a heating rune. The bath was a large, copper tun that could fit three men comfortable. Both of them sunk into the hot water and let it soak the aches in their bodies away. Fenis leaned against Anders’s body, idly tracing lines along his knee. Anders’s palm was pressed against Fenris’s stomach, feeling the strong muscles and holding him protectively. It was in this intimate, and simple moment that Anders realized something.

“Fenris.”

“Yes, Anders.”

Anders hesitated, as nerves held his tongue. Fenris sensed the tension and turned to face him with a worry in his eyes. He placed a hand against Anders’s face and looked into his eyes. “What is it?”

Anders swallowed against the fear and placed his own hand against Fenris’s neck, “I love you.” He’d never said anything more true than in that moment. It didn’t feel like the excitement of new love, but the deep sort of love that comes with old commitment rekindled with new discovery. He could feel that he’d always loved the man before him. It only took him this long to give into the feeling. The confession felt right.

The worry morphed into shock, and then a happiness Anders had never seen lighten Fenris’s features. He pulled Anders in close to devour his lips with a passion that Anders couldn’t remember feeling from anyone. Karl’s love was soft and comforting, and Hawke’s was exciting but fleeting. This was a love that ran deep but still sparked at the surface. 

Fenris took Anders in the bathtub in a way that was rough and fiery, but full of love and soft touches. When they returned to bed, they held each other as if separation would literally kill them. Fenris nestled under Anders’s chin and his hand pressed against his chest. Anders’s fingers stroked through Fenris’s hair. His other hand held onto Fenris’s on his chest. It was at this time that Fenris noticed the silverite ring on Anders’s left hand.

“Anders!” He sat up and stared wide-eyed at the mage below him, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“Wondered when you’d notice. Though I only just put it on when we came back to the room.”

Fenris’s words were caught in his throat. He looked between the ring and Anders’s eyes and then the ring again. Back and forth while he choked on what to say. Anders’s amusement died down to a fondness that ran deep within his heart. He brought his left hand up to trace the lines of Fenris’s lips while he spoke. “Ask me, Fenris.”

Fenris’s eyes closed and his lips trembled. He caught Anders’s wrist and kissed it. He leaned over Anders and pressed his lips to his forehead. He spoke so softly his breath barely brushed over Anders’s face. “Marry me, Anders.”

Anders couldn’t have fought his smile if he tried. He wrestled Fenris beneath him and kissed every part of his face, neck, and chest. “Now  _ that _ , better be an order.”

 

Anders stepped into the Fade after the most intense love-making he’d ever had. The tavern felt brighter, and Justice almost looked happy, if a corpse could possibly do so. He stood beside the door to the tavern and waited. Anders hesitated. If he leaves this area, he’ll never see Justice again. They had been companions for so long… without Justice, Anders would never be free. Could he really just leave him like that?

“It is time, Anders. You are ready.”

Anders stopped in front of the door and turned to his friend. He felt a pang of sadness in his chest. “What about you?”

“I will no longer be anchored. I will be free. As will you.” 

Anders nodded and swallowed as Justice opened the door to the spiralling staircase. He had lived in his past for so long that moving on felt terrifying. But the ghost of his ring brought a courage he hadn’t had before. He offered Justice one last look and stepped out of the tavern. With every step he took, words and images flooded his mind. The tavern dissolved below him, fading from existence. 

_ “That’s amazing, Fenris! Just last month you were reading children’s books!” _

He stepped again.

_ Fenris’s body was warm and strong above him. He restricted his movements but held him gently so that Anders knew he could get away if he really wanted to. His body was overjoyed at the position he was in, but his heart yearned for more from the elf. They had been sharing a bed for weeks, and it was a nice release of tensions between them, but he found he wanted to hold the elf after. He wanted to see him outside of this room. He wanted to be with him. _

 

_ Fenris sat across a fire that the group had made as they camped on Sundermount. Hawke was doing a favor for Merrill and had decided they all needed to join. Anders and Fenris were the only two who were still awake. They had been speaking easily of their interests. It was a nice change, simply talking to and getting to know him. Anders’s chest warmed as Fenris smiled. _

_ Anders fought alongside Varric and Isabella when the attack knocked him unconscious. _

 

Anders’s eyes opened in the darkness of the mansion room. Fenris was sitting beside him with his hands on his chest like he’d just shaken him awake. His eyes were wide with concern. Anders’s chest was heaving and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He looked in the eyes of his betrothed and tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

“I remember!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have it folks. I wrestled with adding more but it felt like it wanted to end here. If I think of something else, I might do an alt end at some point but for now, and possibly forever, this is it. I hope you all enjoyed, thanks to everyone who followed and for putting up with my sporadic updates!


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